


Treason

by EmperorsVornskr, TheJudicator (EmperorsVornskr)



Series: Order [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon ends at the destruction of the Supremacy, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Front Hole Sex, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, M/M, Non-Phallo Trans Male Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Penetrative Sex, Trans Armitage Hux, Trans Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, and after that I say FUCK IT, canon defiant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmperorsVornskr/pseuds/EmperorsVornskr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmperorsVornskr/pseuds/TheJudicator
Summary: General Hux has the loyalty of his beloved Vornskr, the powerful and intimidating Kylo Ren, but he's losing his grasp on the Order that has been his life since he was a child. Failures mounting in quick succession have him marked for elimination, and Kylo is desperate to save the man he loves, especially when they both learn they have much, much more to lose.A cascade of chain-reaction events set off acts of treason, and two of the formerly powerful men find themselves fighting for their lives- the one they're living now, and the one they both desperately want, if they can only survive the onslaught.Between a galaxy full of people wanting them dead for war crimes, a ruthless an unshakable assassin on their trail, and nowhere to turn, Armitage Hux and Kylo Ren have to make do, survive, and hope that love and loyalty will be enough, until they find a safe place to rest, or end the threat to their happiness once and for all- provided they don't kill each other first.
Relationships: Armitage Hux & Phasma & Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux's Mother/Maratelle Hux, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Jorj Car'das/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Mara Jade/Talon Karrde, Phasma (Star Wars)/Original Female Character(s), Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey, Rae Sloane/Original Character(s)
Series: Order [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629148
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39





	1. Brief Respite

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a hot minute, but I've smoothed out the kinks- the writing kinks, not the actual, good kinks ;) - and here it is, the sequel to Loyalty!
> 
> Note: There will be trans pregnancy in this fic. Please just hit the back button if you don't like it, I don't need your comments about how it's bad or how you don't like it, as the subject is personal for me. Hux is a non-phallo trans man. This is not ABO, please don't tell me you wish it were. That's rude.

The Finalizer was in chaos.

Shuttles were still skidding to a halt, TIEs barely swooping into the hangar bay and personnel everywhere disembarking and swarming as the battlecruiser powered away from the explosion of Star Killer Base. It, and the TIES equipped with hyperdrives, jumped to hyperspace once clear of the gravity shadow, leaving the stragglers to their fiery fate. The First Order did not reward those not quick enough to act accordingly for their own survival. It could recoup those numbers easily- said numbers already existed with the fleet.

Hux wasn’t thinking about that now, rushing with the troopers who carried the unconscious Kylo Ren to the med bay. The General didn’t care if anyone questioned his sudden concern in his biggest rival- the smarter personnel wouldn’t. They all knew that rivalry aside, it behoved the General to care about the fate of the Supreme Leader’s apprentice. They’d called ahead, and the staff was waiting for them. Hux’s personal physician, Leta Weyland, already had a privacy screen set up near a bacta tank. She moved to the prone man and supervised the transfer of his limp body from the arms of the troopers to the nearest bed. She shooed them away and pulled the screen, cutting off herself, Ren and Hux from view.

“Where are his wounds?” she asked, though she had already found one on his side and the ones on his face and shoulder were obvious.

Her deft gloved fingers were already pulling at his armour and taking it off, piece by piece. It was clear she was practiced in the art of patching Ren up, despite only having been made his general physician six months ago or so. Hux made a helpless, vague gesture to indicate it was obvious and she’d likely already seen them. The doctor nodded, a stand of violet black hair falling from behind her ear and over her cheek. She tucked it back again, a smear of blood spreading over her cheek as she did so.

“Oh, Lord Ren, what have you tangled with this time?” she fretted, pulling the last of his armour off and starting on the underclothes, revealing the raw and angry wound on his side.

“Bowcaster,” Hux said quietly. “A Wookie shot him.”

Weyland looked up, her aqua blue eyes wide as she blinked.

“Really? And this is all that happened? I’ve seen troopers blown in half by Wookie bowcasters, General.”

She looked back down at Ren, her expression less familiar and more awed.

“Incredible, what a Force user can do to their body to withstand such violence,” she said in almost a whisper.

Under her quick hands, Ren was all but naked, and the livid bruises around his wound, scattered over his torso at points of impact, and smears of blood stood out starkly against the tall man’s pale skin. Weyland tutted.

“What a mess. He’s going to be in a world of pain later,” she said, wiping him down with a sanitising towelette and sticking sensors to specific points on his body. She’d already cleaned the wound on his face, he saw. It looked worse now that the depth of the cauterised wound wasn’t caked with grit and blood.

“General, may I ask you to start a 24 hour cycle on that bacta tank while I prep his mask?” she asked respectfully. “It’s the bottom left blue button on the right console under the red switch.”

Hux knew the mechanism- he’d visited his father in his own bacta tank, watching the man turn the medicinal fluid into a Brendol soup as his body swelled, ruptured and liquefied, bones, viscera and blood floating in the now useless bacta. He smiled to himself at the memory, despite everything, as he turned the cycle on.

“Thank you, Sir,” Weyland said, oblivious to his smile as she finished affixing a breathing mask to Ren’s head, checking to be sure that the fit was snug and vacuum tight.

Ren had been stripped, put into a pair of “bacta skivvies,” and was now sporting the breathing apparatus. Multiple sensors that would connect into the readout display through their wireless beacons dotted Ren’s torso, and were affixed to his temples and major joints. Hux removed his gloves and slid his fingers through Ren’s hair, pulling it back gently and tied it back with one of the many, many hair ties Ren left in his room- this one having found its way into Hux’s pocket along with three others so the General could tie his vornskr’s hair back during one of their supply closet trysts. Weyland said nothing, but her expression was almost grateful.

“A good idea. That mop of a mane of his will obscure his face, and I need to monitor his condition,” she said. “Seeing as I can’t sedate him for the tank.”

“Can’t sedate him?” Hux repeated. He knew Ren couldn’t take strong narcotic painkillers, but no sedation?

“Sedatives make him… uncontrolled,” Weyland replied. “Or so he told me the first time I prepped him for the tank. He can’t hold his abilities back if he’s completely sedated, especially medically. He said he might inadvertently blow up the tank. I don’t want to take that risk.”

Remembering how the last time Ren had exploded every glass object in his room the last time he’d been edged, Hux silently agreed.

“Emee Forty Two, if you please!” Weyland called.

A sleek, but oddly sturdy looking medical Emee droid came around the screen and looked at the doctor expectantly. Hux remembered this droid- it was the same heavy lifter that had dealt with his father. It was a custom, made to handle bigger patients like the tall and broad Kylo Ren- or the large and heavy Brendol.

“Yes, Doctor Weyland?” The droid intoned in a pleasant monotone.

“Into the tank with our patient, Emee,” Weyland instructed. “He’s all prepped.”

She turned to Hux and frowned, pulling off her gloves and donning a new pair.

“Sir, might I see to your lip?” she asked, holding up a small bacta patch.

Hux nodded, holding still as she applied the patch, smoothing it over his split lip. All the while, he watched as the droid carefully picked Ren up. Rising on hydraulic lifts in its telescopic legs, it slowly, and almost lovingly lowered the wounded man into the top of the waiting tank. The viscous liquid seemed to welcome Ren into its depths, and within moments, he was floating quietly in the bacta. Weyland, done with the impromptu care of the General’s face, turned and synchronised the sensors with the readouts. She then nodded in satisfaction as his vitals blipped to life on the screen and began their peaking and dipping lines in various states of agitation or ease depending on the system being monitored.

“He’s stable,” she stated, almost to herself. “He’ll be okay in a cycle, but that wound on his side will need med probe attention, and his face will need some bacta sutures or mesh to help it heal faster.”

She turned to Hux, and he noticed her lab coat was splattered and smeared with dirt, grit and blood. Had Kylo really been that hurt?

“He’ll be alright, General. You can tell the Supreme Leader he just needs a cycle to rest. If he were your everyday trooper, I’d ask for two cycles in the tank and a week of light duty, but this man heals faster than any of my patients. He’ll be just fine.”

This made Hux feel relieved, and he nodded his thanks.

“Your care and professionalism is noted, Doctor Weyland,” he replied. “I will certainly remember this come next evaluation.”

She smiled again, a mix of knowing and of thanks.

“Carry on,” he said dismissively, and casting one last look at Ren floating in the bacta, he turned and left the med bay for his quarters, where orders would surely be waiting for him from Snoke.

* * *

Waiting for him, they were, including a demand for an update on Ren’s status. Hux reassured Snoke that Ren was stable and would be fine after a cycle in the bacta tank. This seemed to placate the deformed Force user.

“I knew you would find him, General. I am pleased you managed to pull my apprentice from the wreckage of his failure,” he said, a clear attempt to pull at the rivalry he assumed still existed between them. Hux smirked- at Snoke failing more than the stab at Ren.

“Of course, Supreme Leader. I had no intention of failing you,” he said, bowing his head as he swallowed his gall.

“Then do not fail me now in this,” Snoke growled. “You have the location of the rebel’s base. Go now and destroy it, and whatever you find there. Eliminate them, General Hux. Once you are done, bring Kylo Ren to the Supremacy.”

The hologram of Snoke’s face disappeared, and Hux swallowed hard. He worried what might happen to Kylo in the face of his defeat at the hands of the scavenger, and the fact that Hux had been sent to save him.

“There’s nothing you can do to help him,” he told himself out loud, startling himself, then he laughed at his own nerves.

He moved to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle, not even bothering with a glass, simply opening the decanter and tipping back a hard swig of brandy to steady his nerves. He was still waiting for the hammer to fall. For Snoke to call him to the throne room to be tortured, maybe killed, for the fall of Starkiller Base. It was very likely that the engineers had brought it to Snoke’s attention that the flaws they’d noticed and brought to Hux’s attention had been ignored- perhaps on purpose in their view.

Hux already had his excuses ready- he had faith in the Supreme Leader’s vision, he had shown the plans to Snoke directly, and Snoke had foreseen its infallible might. To question it would be to question Snoke himself. The misdirect would go right back to the engineers. It didn’t excuse the breach or the destruction, however. Nor did it diminish the sting of his hard work being reduced to burning ruins. He also hoped, foolishly, that it would distract from the odd tinge of nausea in his stomach. Nerves and coming down from an adrenaline rush, he reasoned.

No, the Resistance would pay. He had thought to simply destroy them with an orbital bombardment from the Finalizer’s ventral cannons and turbolasers, but this… overkill was a suitable retaliation, given the provocation. It was time to send a message to anyone else with ideas, to the wallowing remnants of the Senate. It wouldn’t do to simply kill them. He needed to turn them into a smear on the backside of the backwater planet in this backwater sector. An afterthought, a smudge of dirt under his heel. Proof of the First Order’s might.

He pulled out his comm and pinged the captains of other battlecruisers that were close enough to make it in time and told them to be en route. After receiving confirmation that each ship was underway, he hailed Captain Cannady. He had a special role for the Captain to play, and an honor it was for the older officer. Hopefully this would also smooth the older man’s ruffled feathers- Cannady never did get over the death of Brendol, and never did like the man’s successor. Perhaps allowing the man to be the one to pull the trigger would help warm him up to the idea of hailing the younger Hux as his leader.

Hux stopped in the ‘fresher to rinse his mouth- nothing worse than the commanding officer returning to the bridge after an utter defeat smelling of booze- and to comb his hair back into place. Gloved hands smoothed down his coat lapels and tugged the hem of his tunic down to straighten the front smartly.

He wiped the smoke, grit and blood off any visible skin, and examined his reflection, taking in the sharp angles of his face. The bacta patch no longer tingled, he realised, and carefully, he pulled it away. Already, the wound was just a pink line, closed and on the way to healing completely. Satisfied, he tossed the patch aside to be recycled before he ran a hand along his jaw, squinting. No need to shave yet, he decided- the perks of being red haired, in that his five o’clock shadow was more of a 48 hour shadow. He didn’t bother with a fresh application of pomade; he was confident that he’d wipe the Resistance out soon, and he could retire with a shower and dinner before bed.

 _You’re stalling_ , he thought to himself. _Get out there and finish this._

It had been a very long day, but it would be over soon, he hoped as he left his quarters tidied up and refreshed, headed for the bridge. It would be a while before he returned to them.

He had no idea how long of a day it was going to be.

* * *

Hux was greeted with just the scene he wanted to see as the Finalizer came out of hyperspace above the green planet D’qar- the Resistance fleet, or what was left of it, rather, in the middle of what was a very hasty evacuation.

“We’ve caught them in the middle of their evacuation,” Peavey gloated, looking far too smug. Hux suppressed a snarl. Peavey thought far too much of himself and even fancied himself Hux’s equal of all things. He squared his shoulders, lifting his chin proudly.

“I have orders from Supreme Leader Snoke himself,” he said, watching the gleam in the older man’s eyes dim a little as he was reminded of his place- which was beneath the man half his age.

“This is where we snuff out the Resistance once and for all,” he finished, a self satisfied smile curving his mouth as he folded his hands behind his back before turning to head further down the bridge towards the viewport. Peavey was reminded of his station, now it was time to finish things.

“Tell Captain Canady to prime the Fulminatrix, incinerate their base, destroy their transports, and obliterate their fleet,” he ordered, his lip curling into a sneer, showing how little he thought of the four ships below them, and how the word fleet was almost a courtesy to call the paltry force as such.

The orders were relayed, and almost every head turned as a flicker of pseudomotion preceded the arrival of the behemoth known as the Fulminatrix.

A massive dreadnought, nearly eight thousand meters long, filled the viewport with her bulk, deposited neatly between the Finalizer and the Fellfire. The smile widened on Hux’s face- the grav wells of the Finalizer had done the job perfectly, as they had with the Fellfire and the Feralis- giving the impression of the ships dropping out perfectly in formation on their own, as if practiced.

It was far from practice.

The grav wells pulled the ships out of hyperspace where they were wanted, and with a small bit of calculations and timing of jumps, the Finalizer arrived first to pull her reinforcements to her shortly thereafter. What resulted was the ships arriving in formation in quick succession- a dangerous and impressive feat. Micro jumps were hard enough in anything larger than a Corvette or similar class of ship. Micro jumps had been a feat of true military and starship prowess in something like an Imperial Star Destroyer- and only Grand Admiral Thrawn had done so with his fleet. Doing micro jumps with Resurgent-class battlecruisers was not an option, and even thinking about attempting one in the Mandator-class dreadnought was laughable, if not insane. The margins of error- and the cost of any errors- were too high, and the results too catastrophic.

Grav wells worked perfectly for the manoeuvre, and Hux mentally thanked Thrawn for the millionth time for training him in the art of pulling a fleet to its flagship in perfect formation instead of dropping out of hyperspace randomly in a sloppy cluster. The Warlord’s methods didn’t always coincide with the General’s, but in this, they had like minds, and Hux didn’t forget where the intimidating display of coordination and power originated from.

“General, Resistance ship approaching,” said one of the officers, blinking owlishly up from her console. ”Guns and shields in attack mode.”

Hux approached and looked at her scopes. His face contorted in bewilderment, and he turned to look out the viewport.

“A single light fighter?” he asked no one in particular, voicing the confusion everyone felt. Even Peavey gave Hux an equally nonplussed look, unsure of what to do or say as they all looked into the black of space that spanned between their ships and the green planet below. Hux ground his teeth as everyone around him failed to react.

“Well, shoot it!” He spat.

As the gunners scrambled over themselves to focus their weapons on the ship, the communications officer looked up, her face utterly bewildered as a communications broadcast crackled over the speakers.

““Attention, this is Commander Poe Dameron of the Republic fleet,” the voice said. “I have an urgent communiqué for General Hugs.”

Hux went rigid as the purposeful mispronunciation rang through the bridge. Despite years of training at keeping his face impassive, cold, and unreadable, the General’s lip curled and his teeth gleamed in the light of the ship’s instrumentation. He felt every eye on him, waiting for his explosion. Everyone knew who the pilot of that ship was, and they knew the damage that single man had caused for the Order, for the General.

“Dameron,” he hissed, flecks of saliva spattering from between his clenched teeth, his fists clenched likewise at his sides.

All eyes went to the viewports, less apprehension now as they sought out the X-Wing. Everyone on the bridge knew of the damage Poe Dameron had caused- and what further havoc he could wreak.

“Patch him through,” Hux snapped.

“This is General Hux,”he all but snarled. “The Republic is no more. Your fleet are rebel scum and war criminals. Tell your precious princess there will be no terms. There will be no surrender.”

There was a pregnant silence that descended over the bridge, and Hux narrowed his eyes, waiting for the pilot to reply.

“Hi, I’m holding for General Hugs?” the pilot asked after a moment.

Annoyed, Hux lifted his chin defiantly as he replied.

“This is Hux. You and your friends are doomed! We will wipe your filth from the galaxy! The galaxy will bear witness to the consequences of your actions against the Order! ”

Another weighty silence, and Hux swore he could hear the smirk in Dameron’s voice as he replied, “Okay, I’ll hold.”

“Pathetic. They have such outdated tech that they cannot even fully connect over ship to ship transmissions,” Hux sneered into the quiet, and the communications officer worked over her controls to fine tune the connection.

“Hello? I’m still here.”

Hux glowered at a communications officer. “Can he hear me?”

The officer nodded gravely, her brow furrowed, worried about the consequences of failing at this moment. Making her General look bad would be costly. Peavey was looking at the readouts- Dameron was steadily getting closer and closer to the Fulminatrix. He shot Hux a look, but the General was too focused on his personal vendetta against the man, and the frustration and embarrassment he was causing him.

“Hugs—with an H?” Dameron asked. “Skinny guy, kind of pasty?”

“I can hear you, can you hear me?” Hux replied, his cheeks flushing despite himself as he saw at least one or two officers bite their lip. He made note of them and their names, along with fitting punishment for having any reaction other than outrage at their commanding officer being insulted.

“Look, I can’t hold forever,” Dameron said, sounding exasperated. “If you reach him, tell him Leia has an urgent message for him. About his mother.”

“I believe he’s tooling with you, sir,” Peavey said, but Hux didn’t hear. The man had used that hated nickname, insulted his personage, but had gone too far with the insinuated slur, defamation and slander of Rae Sloane’s character.

Did Dameron mean Grand Admiral Rae Sloane? Did the Resistance even remember the great woman enough to insult her in order to gain the ire of the First Order General? Or was he referring to the mother who nearly died in the assault on Arkanis that had been ordered by the Resistance? It didn’t matter. The insinuation, the insult against either of the women he considered his mother was enough to send the red haired man into a blind rage.

“OPEN FIRE ON THAT FIGHTER!” He screamed, spit flying from his mouth, his coat swirling as he pointed violently at the viewport where the X-Wing’s drive trails suddenly became very visible as it rapidly picked up speed. “I WANT IT OBLITERATED!”

The space between the Finalizer and the Fulminatrix lit up with turbolaser fire seeking to destroy the lone X-Wing, but the ship was now moving at a pace far beyond known speeds for the craft, drive trails streaking across the open space towards the Dreadnought.

“He’s going after the Dreadnought,” Peavey said in bewildered wonder.

“He’s insane,” Hux replied, the colour still high in his cheeks, his pulse still pounding in his ears, but his demeanour had settled back to a calmer facade.

His expression turned from calm to concerned, however, his brow furrowing as the X-Wing began destroying the surface cannons in quick succession. He motioned to the comms officer, and she quickly pulled up connection to the Fulminatrix.

“Captain Canady, why aren’t you blasting that puny ship?” he ordered as soon as the older man’s form appeared on the holo.

“That puny ship is moving at least twice as fast as any known X-Wing and is too small to hit, we need to scramble the TIE fighters,” he growled, his form disappearing without a formal dismissal as he left to do just that.

Hux turned his gaze back to the Fulminatrix just in time to see the TIEs go swarming from the hangar bays like a swarm of angry insects, all seeking to devour and destroy the single Resistance starfighter. Hux almost felt a bit better then- after the failure of the TIE pilots to kill the X-Wing pilots over Starkiller Base, many were chomping at the bit to prove their worth again. Hopefully their enthusiasm would get results this time. His feelings sunk as he noticed the new ships approaching- Star Fortress bombers and X-Wing escorts- headed right for the top surface of the Fulminatrix, which now had no defences, save for the TIEs that now scattered to focus on the new targets.

“All TIE squadrons, get out there!” He shouted. “Do not let those bombers get close!”

He shot a Look at the Fulminatrix just in time to see the ship fire on the base on D’qar’s surface, but as impressive as the firepower was, as large as the explosion and devastation caused was, Hux had the feeling it was too little, too late, and that the Resistance was already aboard the ships that now, surely, were preparing to jump to hyperspace. The TIEs from the Finalizer joined the battle, and it became a swarm of starfighters. Hux almost relaxed, seeing the bombers and their X-Wing escorts get shot down, one by one. The Fulminatrix would be fine, they just had to pick off those junk heaps, Canady just had to turn the guns on the Resistance Fleet and obliterate them once and for-

There was a flash of light and a blossoming of fire as the last bomber fell into the hull of the Fulminatrix, along with its cargo, and the Dreadnought began to fall apart. Explosions went off in a chain reaction, the primed weapons imploded then sent a shockwave through the broken frame of the massive warship, and within seconds, the Fulminatrix was eight thousand meters of ruin.

Hux felt a wave of nausea in his stomach, and his gorge threatened to rise in his throat, a hot, sharp burn that stung his oesophagus. He forced the rising bile down, clenching his teeth, and tightened his abs to withstand the sour sick feeling in his gut as he surveyed the ruined wreckage of the once mighty warship. His nausea came again, and the bile reached his mouth this time as he noticed the pseudomotion of the Resistance fleet flickering away into hyperspace. He swallowed the bitter gorge, trying to keep his nerve. Another failure. Another large loss.

The comms officer looked up meekly, her face pale.

“General, Supreme Leader Snoke is making contact from his ship.”

Hux tried to keep his face impassive, but he felt the nausea again, paired with the feeling of the blood draining from his face, and he felt as though his body were free-falling through the deck.

“Excellent,” he told her. “I’ll take it in my chambers.”

He only took a few steps across the polished deck of the bridge, feeling wonder at the fact that he managed to keep his knees from buckling with his heart sinking and his gorge rising. Snoke’s malformed face, huge and blue in holographic form, stopped his retreat to his room where he’d wanted to face the wrath of the deformed creature in relative privacy, away from the eyes of his subordinates who undoubtedly blamed him for this loss.

It was sheer will power, instinct born of training, and hair trigger reflexes of keeping an impassive expression in the face of superiors that kept Hux from vomiting. Bile stung his throat, burned his tongue and licked at his teeth, but he managed to swallow it along with the saliva made metallic with fear one more time, and hoped he could keep it down for good. At least until he got back to his room.

“Oh, good. Supreme Lead—” he began, only to find himself actually falling this time- and felt his nose crack, his lip bust, and tongue catch between his teeth in an explosion of pain and coppery blood as Snoke slammed him face first into the deck. For a moment, he saw nothing but sparks and stars, and felt nothing but pain and humiliation. The same unseen force spun him around to face the officers of the bridge, where the holo of the awful face had moved, so that Snoke and all present were a judge and jury there to sentence him for his failures.

“General Hux,” Snoke growled, his voice almost a low rumble of thunder in the hushed silence of the bridge. “My disappointment in your performance cannot be overstated.”

Hux got to a knee, his hair falling over his face, blood trickling out of his mouth and over his chin. His nose ached and throbbed, and blood ran from a nostril. His green-grey eyes focused on Snoke, the fire of his own embarrassment, pain and outrage at his current indignity overcoming his fear.

“We won’t lose them,” he said between clenched teeth, flecks of blood flicking from his lips.

“We have them tied on the end of a string.”

* * *

_Kylo opened his eyes and snow fell into them, melting on his eyelashes, clinging to brows and cheeks. He opened his mouth, tongue flicking out at the cold as more flakes landed on his lips._

_The sky above was grey, steely and cold, broken through by the jagged spires of the trees that towered over him. Each tree seemed to loom over him with silent judgement, the branches seeming to whisper hushed condemnation as the chilling breeze shook them. Kylo blinked, suddenly aware of the chill of the snow under him, soaking into his clothing. His side ached, and the heat pooling under him reminded him he’d been wounded- badly. His face wasn’t so bad, really, not with the kiss of snow on his skin, the soft flakes caressing his burned laceration._

_Still, he forced himself up._

_The world spun and swayed around and under him, and he grabbed at his head, willing the vertigo to stop. His fingers were coated in gore, and he remembered pummelling his own wound to pull more pain, more rage, more power from it. He looked at his hand, staring at the blood and yes, the small pieces of shredded flesh clinging to his leather gloves._

_“Are you done playing dead?”_

_Kylo blinked and saw a boy standing off a way, his small hand resting on the trunk of a tree. He wore simple black robes, and his hair was a mess of raven black waves tumbling around his long face. The eyes glittered from under heavy brows, an indiscernible colour from this distance, but still, they were sharp, cunning._

_Kylo frowned._

_He would have sworn he’d woken after falling to the scavenger’s lightsaber, that he’d not confessed his love to Hux on the shuttle as the Starkiller Base died beneath them. He was convinced he’d woken after she’d fled, and now he had to make his way to the nearest ship to avoid a fiery death. But here he was, sitting on calm, unmoving ground, staring at a boy that could only be himself._

_“Who are you?” he called, struggling to his feet._

_The boy pursed his full lips, so like Kylo’s, and the heavy brows crinkled in disapproval. There was something in the mouth that seemed so familiar, but it was nothing Kylo recognised in himself. That wasn’t a set his mouth ever took._

_“Stop being silly,” he said, taking a step forward, his hand going to his hip. In one smooth movement, he drew a lightsaber and ignited it. The silvery white blade cast a soft, almost soothing glow over the snow and the trees around them as it hummed._

_“Are you done playing dead so we can train?”_

_Kylo blinked, snow catching in his eyelashes._

_“Who are you?” he asked again._

_The boy simply smiled sadly._

_“I’m part of you,” he replied. “Don’t you recognise me?”_

Kylo’s eyes opened wide, and he struggled for breath when he saw he was not surrounded by trees and snow, that he was not in a forest, but immersed in liquid too thick, and his brain screamed at him he was going to drown. A split second later, the aqua eyes of Doctor Weyland met his, and immediately, he understood the situation and calmed.

“Lord Ren, you’re awake earlier than I expected,” she said, frowning. “Your mental activity was off the charts.”

Kylo didn’t bother answering, he knew she wouldn’t be able to hear anything through the bubbles that would be the inevitable result. She was already getting ready to remove him from the bacta, Emee 42 already standing by to assist.

_You’re awake._

The statement was simple, but rejuvenated Kylo more than he cared to admit. He flung open the link wide and pushed into Hux’s mind- who allowed him in.

 _What happened?_ It was obvious Hux was distressed- and in pain. He was close, Kylo could sense that.

 _A broken nose, nothing to worry about_ , came the reply. Kylo jerked in the tank, nearly falling out of Emee’s grasp, slick as he was with bacta. The medical droid paid no mind, continuing its work in lifting the large man out of the tank and lowering him onto a grate where the bacta would drain into a sterilising tray for reuse.

_A broken nose? Armitage, what happened?_

_Dameron happened. Then Snoke happened._

Kylo bared his teeth at the mention of the pilot’s name, and Weyland moved across the room to tend to read outs in a hurry. Kylo didn’t bother telling her it wasn’t at her. He was now free of the droid, clear of the sensors, and all he wanted was his armour and his lightsaber so he could find Hux. Hux sensed Kylo’s agitation, and worry flooded their link, concern for his current state. Kylo sent his own wave of emotion, that of reassurance that he was alright, back across at him. Hux replied in kind with a reel of images of what had happened- from the Fulminatrix’s arrival, to its explosive end. All with Dameron’s interference in between.

 _I’ll kill him_ , Kylo hissed, but staying still so that he could be rinsed of the hated bacta by the ever dutiful droid.

“It doesn’t matter, I’ve already got orders”, Hux said, coming into the room. He had been closer than Kylo realised. Had he been in the waiting room, waiting for him to wake up?

“Get ready. Snoke wants to see us both once we rendezvous with the Supremacy.”

He’d cleaned up, his lip once again patched, and from the way he made expressions, it was clear his nose was numb from anaesthesia for the resetting of bone. His eyes were bloodshot, however, and bags were under his eyes. The stress was heavy on him, and it was taking its toll. He was a man with multiple failures on his shoulders, working for a being who did not tolerate failure well.

“How long to the rendezvous?” Kylo asked as he shed the wet bacta skivvies, not even bothering to cover himself as he held out his hand for the soft towel the droid offered him, giving himself a rubdown. Hux didn’t avert his eyes, taking some pleasure in getting an almost greedy eyeful of his lover- but also getting a look at his wounds to reassure himself all was well.

“Three hours. We have the approximate destination of the Resistance Fleet, and the Supremacy is meeting us there. We will dock with the Supremacy, and I am to report to Snoke,” Hux said, giving a nod once he saw that Kylo’s side no longer looked like ground nerf meat.

“My Lord, here is your medical droid,” Weyland said, emerging from the other side of the privacy screen once she saw an opening that was respectful- but she did avert her eyes from Kylo’s nudity. A small spherical droid was hovering at her side. It extended little spidery arms, already set on going to work on Kylo’s face, but Kylo pushed it back.

“I don’t have time for that,” he said, wrapping the towel around his waist- and it barely covered his groin or ass. “I’m going to my quarters to prepare.”

Hux and Weyland both goggled at him.

“Surely you’re not going to your quarters like that,” Hux sputtered.

“My Lord, surely someone can bring you your armour!” Weyland said at the same time.

“I need to prepare for the meeting with my Master, and I will not be delayed in my meditations,” Kylo said firmly, an edge of his old impetuous self in his voice. “I’ll use the officer’s lift.”

He turned and padded off towards the door, leaving damp footprints in his wake, and Weyland staring at him with a slack jaw. The medical droid buzzed and followed him, determined to do its job.

 _I’m going to your room_ , Kylo said. _Weyland is a good doctor but I need some of your healing touch to make me feel whole._

Snapping out of the shock of seeing Kylo wander off in just a towel, Hux pulled his overcoat off and dashed after him, his face red. Weyland just stared at them as they went, utterly nonplussed.

“Damnit, Ren,” Hux shouted. “At least put this on, you animal!”


	2. Sowing Chaos for Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo has a revelation he didn't want, and is shaken to his core. Meanwhile, Loyalty Officers are hard at work priming the galaxy for the First Order after the destruction of Hosnian Prime.

Their mouths were locked as soon as Hux was through the door.

Kylo’s long fingers clawed at Hux’s tunic, pulling open the sealing seam, peeling the offending garment off and tossing it aside. Their kiss was broken as Kylo moved to bite and kiss at the exposed clavicle, bringing blood to the pale freckled skin. All the while, his fingers had moved to the infuriating belt, which Hux had already helpfully unbuckled. He’d been smart enough to bend and lean, lifting his feet to undo the clasps at the tops of his boots, which he promptly kicked off.

He’d learnt months ago that the boots that required minutes of struggle to pull on and off would be hazardous to his well being with Kylo’s lack of patience, and had discretely switched to new boots with hidden clasps and sealing seams. They stumbled as Hux’s pants and skivvies dropped to the floor, pooling around his feet, but Kylo lifted him, ignoring the pain in his side as he sat down hard on the ice blue couch. Wearing just his black under-tank and knee high socks, Hux straddled Kylo’s lap, taking the full length of him in one smooth movement, a low throaty moan escaping him.

Kylo sighed before wincing slightly at the pain in his wound, and guided Hux’s thigh and knee further outward, away from his side. Hux’s coat still hung on his shoulders from where the General had tossed it in an attempt to cover his modesty- as if Kylo had any left. The coat was heavy garberwool, and it bothered him, so he pushed it back from his shoulders to the couch’s backrest behind him. Hux cradled Kylo’s head in his hands, palms to his lover’s cheeks, his fingers curling in the dark wavy hair. He leaned forward to press kisses to his mouth, to rub his nose against the other’s, his shoulders hunching as he rode Kylo’s lap. For a few intense moments, nothing but the sound of their pants, Kylo’s grunting, Hux’s moans, and the soft wet sound of Kylo moving within Hux could be heard.

“You… scared the kriff out of me,” Hux swore between pants, leaning his head down to bite at Kylo’s shoulder roughly. The skin reddened and Kylo felt how close Hux came to breaking skin.

“Not my intention,” he replied, gasping for air as Hux gave his cock a very tight squeeze on the next upward movement of his hips. He was still giddy from the bacta, and was very close to coming, but didn’t want to come without showing Hux the same enjoyment, not when this was likely the last time for a LONG time that they’d be able to take comfort in each other like this. He didn’t have a choice, however, as Hux bore down with his teeth and cunt, breaking skin and squeezing his cock in a vice grip. Kylo gasped, swore, and nearly swooned as he came, his cock throbbing hard and fast inside Hux.

“Not… I didn’t make you…”

Hux didn’t answer, as the datapad in his coat pocket had gone off. Ignoring Kylo’s protests about ‘always working,’ he snatched it up and looked at the message waiting for him. All the while, he continued moving on Kylo, making him wince as he squeezed his overstimulated cock. Hux got to something in the message, and his entire body stiffened. A low throaty sound came from him, his thighs shook, his abdomen tightened, and with a triumphant cry, Hux tossed the datapad to the side and kissed Kylo full on the mouth as he came.

Kylo was confused- and pissed.

“What did we say about working while we fuck?”

“Oh hush,” Hux chided him, glowing. He rifled through the pockets of his coat for a cigarra- as was his wont to do after sex, but only found his lighter. He huffed, then contented himself with kissing the sweat from Kylo’s face instead.

“You going to tell me what literally made you come since it wasn’t me?” Kylo demanded with a scowl. Hux purred, a lower, deeper and more satisfied sound than Kylo had ever heard from the man, and he lifted both eyebrows.

“The Senate is disbanded. Each representative has fled to their homeworld with their respective fleets. There is no unified front to stand against the might of the First Order’s fleet.”

The grin that Hux wore was hungry, and eerie. His teeth almost glittered in the light with a predatory glee. He practically glowed with pleasure at the prospect of conquest, and Kylo wasn’t sure if he was aroused or genuinely afraid of this man.

“We can pick them off, One. By. One,” Hux said softly, tapping Kylo’s nose in time with each word to emphasise them. “One planetary fleet against a single trio of our ships? Or one Dreadnought? With no plucky Resistance to help them?”

His pale eyes glittered, and Kylo noticed the fine sheen of sweat on Hux’s forehead, on his upper lip, shoulders and neck. Perhaps the glow wasn’t from pleasure, but fever? He concentrated hard on his lover, and yes, there was something off, but he couldn’t figure out what. That odd anomaly that was Hux and his ability to be “passed over” or “ignored” by the Force made it hard to pinpoint anything about Hux unless Hux himself allowed it.

“We’ll have them ground to ruin in a fortnight. They’ll beg for surrender,” Hux murmured in a low voice before kissing Kylo again, and it was then Kylo noticed the odd taste in his mouth. Sour, metallic, harsh. He pushed Hux away.

“You’re sick,” he said, almost a question. Hux frowned and was quiet a moment, as if debating whether to argue the point.

“Perhaps,” he admitted before his expression soured. “Nearly threw up a few times, but that tends to happen when Snoke is tossing you across the bridge in front of your subordinates. I’ll be fine.”

Kylo kissed Hux’s clammy forehead and shifted them both to disentangle from him.

“Shower with me? I don’t want to face Snoke reeking of bacta and sex.”

Hux, still casting his eyes about for his cigarras, looked back to Kylo and nodded. A shower was better than smoking, he decided, especially since he’d need to clean up before explaining his technology to the tech-illiterate Snoke. He watched Kylo’s ass with a deep level of appreciation as it disappeared into the shower, and he sighed, removing what was left of his clothing. One day, that man would be all his, and he wouldn’t have to hide how much he cared for him. For now, he just had to keep playing along until he had his chance.

Their shower was quick and silent. Both were tired, sore and apprehensive. They soaped each other up, rinsed, Hux lingering over the bitemarks he’d inflicted, making sure they weren’t too bad, and stepped out in a matter of minutes. As Hux towelled off, headed to his closet for a fresh uniform, Kylo stopped, noticing the cello. It was out of its case, clearly having been oiled and polished recently, gleaming on its stand. He wordlessly took the extra outfit from Hux as it was handed over, only half-heartedly pulling on the various parts of his ensemble.

“Something wrong?” Hux asked as he stepped into a clean pair of skivvies that still bore a crease from where they’d been pressed and folded- something that was so typically and utterly Hux that it made Kylo’s heart ache in fondness, even as he smirked in amusement at how ridiculous it was that Hux had his skivvies ironed and pressed.

“Before we get there… while we still have time… would you play for me?” Kylo asked, nodding at the instrument. Hux blinked. He hadn’t played for Kylo in a while- they’d been too busy- and he’d not thought that Kylo had truly enjoyed it that much.

“Please?” Kylo asked, almost pleading, his eyes reproachful. “It would calm me before I see him.”

Hux pulled on his undershirt, and pulled the cello and bow off its stand, carrying it to the couch, where he sat down. He positioned the instrument between his knees, and after a quick tune up, began to play. Kylo came close, sitting on the floor beside Hux’s feet, leaning against his leg so that he could feel the vibrations through his skin and muscle. He rested his chin on Hux’s thigh and closed his eyes, a smile curling his lips.

Hux watched Kylo as he played, looking at the serene expression on his face. His fingers played over the strings, his hand pulled the bow smoothly across them, and the rich sound filled the room. It was a melody he remembered from an uncertain part of his past, from a voice as rich as warm as the cello. The lullaby had been hummed by a wounded woman who was just as unsure, just as frightened as he was. Hux closed his own eyes as he played, remembering how Rae Sloane had hummed the only lullaby she’d known to calm a child she barely knew. The song had forever been burned into his memory, and he thought it would be good to hear it again- both for himself and for Kylo.

It was a melancholy, but hopeful tune. It had minor tonality, of uncertainty and fear, but slowly, over the course of the song, it changed key to major, turning warm and hopeful. It started soft and sombre, but swelled to a happy finale. As the final note rang out in the room and slowly faded, Kylo opened his eyes, seeing Hux with his eyes closed, his fingers still on the instrument, the bow paused over the strings. He looked calm, at peace, and content. His pulse thrummed under Kylo’s chin in his thigh, and he ran his fingers over the freckled skin.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with indulgence. Hux’s eyes opened, and it seemed that he needed a moment to bring Kylo into focus, but he smiled. Playing had brought him some peace, and quieted something inside him he couldn’t quite place.

“I think I needed that, too.”

Kylo got to his feet and pressed a kiss to Hux’s lips. Something buzzed and sang under Hux’s skin that he just couldn’t read, couldn’t understand, but Hux wasn’t sick or hurt that he could tell, so he passed it off as nerves. Or his constant internal rebellion against Snoke.

“Don’t get started again,” Hux teased, bumping Kylo’s nose with his own. “We need to finish getting dressed and get ready to board the Supremacy.”

“Kill joy,” Kylo sighed dramatically.

Hux got up and gently, lovingly put his cello away before pulling on the rest of his uniform. Kylo hoped to one day see Hux play in full uniform- the idea was wildly attractive- but Hux disliked the idea. Restricted his movement with the bow, he said. Kylo secretly believed Hux just didn’t want to wrinkle the uniform. Hux, fully dressed, pulled his greatcoat over his shoulders, and pressed a kiss to Kylo’s cheek.

“So. Ready to face our punishment?”

Kylo gripped Hux’s hand.

“I will be right behind you.”

* * *

As the turbolift doors shut, Hux tugged at the cuffs of his fresh uniform for the umpteenth time, even though he knew they were impeccable, the creases on his uniform were perfect, and he was freshly showered, his nose healed. He would face Snoke with his dignity restored, and he hoped that he wouldn’t walk out again wounded to mind, ego and body. He let himself idly daydream about a far more unlikely scenario- one wherein Snoke praised his technology, granted him the position of Commander of the Supremacy, the rank of Grand Marshal, and all the privileges that came with such an illustrious position.

The position, the rank that he was far overdue, was denied, was owed.

The First Order was not Snoke’s creation, but one he’d usurped when he showed up

Hux had been young when Snoke had started bribing his father with promises of power, with riches from various sources. He’d watched as Brendol had disappeared to meetings more and more often, leaving Sloane frustrated and worried. She was being courted by Thailin at that point, and she had been on the verge of retiring- but only after she’d confirmed the Order was ready to make its debut on the galaxy, that the newborn fleet was prepared, the troopers were trained, and her adopted son was safe in a high enough position that he wasn’t in danger from his father.

Instead, Brendol came back from one of his trips with Snoke.

Snoke knew about Armitage, knew about his status as Sloane’s ward, the bond they had, and had planned to abuse it. Brendol called his son down to help him bring back supplies he’d picked up, and Armitage found himself being taken hostage by imposing figures in red armour and red masked helmets. He’d then found himself being turned, and looking into the deformed face of a being in an ostentatious gold robe, and his first reaction was revulsion and contempt at the sheer arrogance. Who would dare take an officer hostage- especially the one in charge of the trooper program, the propaganda and conditioning programs?

“All bark and no bite,” Snoke had sneered. “A rabid pup with a muzzle, but a prized pup nonetheless.”

Sloane had been presented with an ultimatum: abdicate her position, leave the Order, and retire with dignity; or resist, and be killed, but not before Armitage was killed slowly in front of her. Sloane abdicated, but when Brendol came to gloat, she gave him one more final beating. To Brendol’s confused horror, Snoke did not retaliate, but looked the other way. Snoke had what he wanted, and Brendol was of little concern to him anymore. His attention was on the Hux with actual value.

Hux fought his way to the rank of General at the young age of thirty, and thankfully, Snoke did not expedite the process. Hux was able to be proud of his advancement, but he knew the main reason he lived was because he was key to the loyalty of the troopers of the First Order’s army. He was proud, but also disappointed and utterly bitter, because he’d been trained, taught, and raised to believe his right, his destiny, was to rule the Order.

The First Order, its military, fleet, resources, everything, went to Snoke, who proclaimed himself Supreme Leader.

Hux was forced to watch his training and programming of his troopers altered to include Snoke. Had to endure his plans being changed and twisted to include Snoke’s infuriating machinations of “Force Visions” and the “Calling of the Dark Side.” Old ways, backward methods, all nonsense in the face of the advanced technology and the might of the fleet Hux had been building under the tutelage of Sloane, with inspirations from Thrawn and Tarkin. Then Snoke had brought Kylo, and Hux had hated watching the arrogant, infuriating man get in his way, disrespect everything and everyone- even his surroundings. The fool of a man had caused him personal injury, to mind, body, and ego, and had on more than one occasion invaded his privacy in multiple ways.

Yet…

_I wouldn’t trade him for anything now_ , Hux thought to himself, the corner of his lip lifting a bit. _Not even the title of Supreme Leader itself._

Unless it was Kylo granting it to him after they’d killed Snoke, of course. What would they even do, the two of them, if they killed Snoke? Would Kylo fall in line to Hux’s side, become his blade as he was to Snoke? Would he challenge Hux for the role? Would they lead together?

 _He could be my Vornskr. My weapon, my pet, my consort, my wrath made flesh_ , he mused, relishing the idea of dressing Kylo in better armour and cloaks, grooming his hair to shine in the light and shade his expressive eyes.

_My husband._

The sudden thought made his brain screech to a halt at the sentimentality. He shook his head as the lift nearly reached Snoke’s throneroom. Such thoughts were dangerous, and there were no ysalamiri on the Supremacy- they were safely at a distance back on the Finalizer. His thoughts were an open book if he didn’t keep them safely partitioned, locked away and safely out of reach. Hux closed his eyes and focused on his inner rooms, the locked doors- which he cracked open to shove the treasonous thoughts through and away. He hid the soft, sentimental thoughts carefully away- those were the most dangerous, after all. Nothing made a weapon quite like the sentiment of someone used against them.

His thoughts safely tucked away, he smoothed his tunic again, and recomposed himself. All set. Let Snoke pry into his inner sanctum if he even deigned to do so- Hux had the feeling Snoke thought him mentally shallow and wanting nothing but short term glory and destruction.

 _Let him think that_ , something hissed behind the closed door, and Hux swallowed, almost feeling the thing unwinding in his chest as the lift doors opened.

_It will be his downfall._

\---------

The smile Hux gave him as he departed the throne room gave Kylo a thrill. It was meant to come off as a smirk of one combatant taunting the other, but the glitter in Hux’s eyes spoke of relief of dodging a killing blow. Knowing Hux was safe, that he was walking away unharmed, gave Kylo the calm he needed to approach his master now, knowing that he was likely to be receiving much worse by way of punishment than harsh words.

“Do you know why I keep a rabid cur in such a place of power?” Snoke asked slyly as the lift door shut, closing off his words from Hux.

Kylo didn’t answer.

“A cur’s madness, properly manipulated, can be a useful tool. General Hux’s delusions of grandeur are what keep him in place. Why would he resist when there is a chance of gaining more than he is entitled?”

The look Snoke gave him spoke measures of how the statement was also aimed at him, as well. Kylo ignored it, keeping his thoughts, the treacherous ones, small as they were, locked away.

“How’s your wound?” Snoke asked, but there was little concern in it. The question was a lead in to something more, and Kylo was bracing for it.

“It’s nothing,” he replied, breaking his silence.

A lie. It still hurt- despite the bacta tank. The micro-sutures held his wounds together to enable smoother healing of the lightsaber slash to his face, but the wound to his side- one he’d exacerbated with his own fist- throbbed and ached deep inside. The bout with Hux hadn’t been the best idea, but he didn't regret it. The pain gave him something to focus on.

“The mighty Kylo Ren,” Snoke said, considering his student. “When I found you, I saw what all masters live to see: raw, untamed power. And beyond that, something truly special—the potential of your bloodline. A new Vader. Now I fear I was mistaken.”

Kylo’s eyes narrowed behind his mask, and his lip peeled back to reveal his teeth, the snarl unseen by Snoke.

“I’ve given everything I have to you—to the dark side,” Kylo said, his voice distorted by his mask. “Everything.”

A pointed reminder that he had supposedly given up his relationship with Hux. His name. His identity. Possibly a part of his sanity. The privacy of his own mind that he’d had to rebuild, partition and reshape to have a piece of himself to himself.

“Take that ridiculous thing off,” said Snoke, his voice dripping with disgust.

Shock froze Kylo momentarily, and he fought to regain his composure, to calm his face and make it expressionless as he slowly reached up and removed the mask, revealing his scarred face. Snoke slowly got up from his throne, the slow shuffling pad of his feet on the polished floor hinting at pain with every step. Kylo wished it did more than pain him, his face immovable as Snoke approached him. Snoke raised a hand, stretching out a finger and touched his cheek, then moved higher. The pale, clammy fingertip traced Kylo’s eyelid, leaving a streak of moisture behind, and Kylo resisted the urge to recoil at the hateful touch. How dare this creature touch him in such a way after everything thus far? He willed himself to be still, to be emotionless, to be immovable as Hux when sending in a trooper for reconditioning, as unreadable as Phasma in her chrome helmet. Mentally, he took strength from the two people he considered friends as Snoke’s loathsome finger touched his face.

“Yes,” Snoke said. “There it is. You have too much of your father’s heart in you. Young Solo.”

Kylo’s eyes snapped to Snoke’s, backlit with a raging fire. After he’d taken his name from him, he dared throw it in his face?

“I killed Han Solo. I killed my…when the moment came I put my blade through him. I didn’t hesitate.”

“Petulance, not strength,” sneered the disfigured creature, his voice rising in contempt with each word. “And look at you. The deed split your spirit to the bone. I sense a splitting of your mind. You were unbalanced, bested by a girl who had never held a lightsaber. You failed!”

Kylo gritted his teeth and his chest filled with pressure. His ribs felt like iron hot bands around his torso, his lungs filled with fire and smoke, and the only way to release the heat, the pressure that threatened to collapse his bones, was to explode.

Snoke was ahead of him by moments, if not minutes. Kylo had only taken the slightest step toward him when white-blue lightning erupted from Snoke’s fingers, blasting Kylo backward and leaving him reeling in pain. He floundered on his back, ozone reeking in his nostrils, his skin buzzing and nerves screaming in pain and heat as he fought to clear his head. He felt wet heat under his robes and armour, and knew his wound had reopened as a heartbeat later, the scent of copper and salt joined the reek of ozone and burnt hair. The Praetorian Guards had moved into defensive stances, faceless visors fixed on Kylo, but a dismissive wave of Snoke’s hand had them going back to their watchful positions, where they still regarded the black-clad figure on the floor like a snake under their master’s boot.

“Skywalker lives!” Snoke roared at Ren. “The seed of the Jedi Order lives! As long as it does, hope lives in the galaxy!”

The Supreme Leader fixed Kylo with a contemptuous look, his twisted lip curling only to further disfigure his already hideous face.

“I thought you would be the one to snuff it out. Alas. You’re no Vader, you’re just a child with a mask. You’re no better than Hux. At least the General’s failures were easier to manipulate than you were.”

Kylo froze.

“What?”

“Hux is expendable. He always has been, and now that he has fulfilled his purpose, he is no longer useful. I fully expect the Resistance to get away, and it will be his fault. He has already made it clear what he thinks of the Force, of the Dark Side, of you and your Knights. He has multiple failures on his hands, and the ire of those who had expected the Order to rise to glory of the Empire- only to see this young whelp make a mockery of it.”

Snoke laughed.

“You played into it perfectly, you know. He believed I was trying to kill off his allies, the women he calls his mothers, Lady Carise. You said he was paranoid, refused to believe him. Between the failures, the paranoia, the accusations, and then the escape of the Resistance? It will be too easy to call for his execution and not lose the support of those loyal to him- how can they be loyal to someone who betrayed and failed the First Order, after all?”

Hux had been right. He’d been right, and Kylo had nearly ruined the one good thing he had- had set that good thing back because he had refused to believe the man who’d possibly loved him. Then, with another blow to the gut, he realised…

His father had been right.

“Go. Get to your ship and prove you are still worthy of being my apprentice,” Snoke said dismissively.

And there it was. Something, somewhere, broke inside him. The last hope that the creature that had twisted him, made him into what he was, was testing him. Kylo struggled to his feet, refusing to favour his injury- which only made it worse, blood trickling down his leg and into his boot. He turned his back on Snoke, fighting to keep the fires of his anger at bay—and in doing so, missed the cruel smile that twisted the Supreme Leader’s face. It didn’t stop him from feeling the cruel mirth that resonated from the creature he once referred to and thought of as Master.

In the turbolift, doors shut, he stared down at the helmet cradled in his hands.

He’d been told by Snoke that his family wouldn’t ever appreciate him. That he was special in a way that no one else could understand without crushing who he was. He’d been groomed, led to believe he was something great, born of a line that possibly started from the very Force itself. His father had expected him to be a great pilot and smuggler, to be the wittiest, the best shot, the most charming. All while running off to one adventure or another without him. When he was there, Kylo supposed he’d been a good father, but he’d left him. Constantly. What kind of father was that? Then his mother… His throat tightened at the thought, but he pushed it away as his anger kept its course.

Everyone on Chandrila, Hosnian Prime, the Senate, all expected him to be like his mother. An Organa, a descendent of the Naberries, expected to be a diplomat, a politician, a senator, with a silver tongue and social graces befitting a child from two royal lines. But how could he be any of those with the Force? With his social anxieties and the clumsiness that had come with age and his tall gangly figure, and when he was taken away by the one who’d betrayed him the most?

Luke. His uncle. His favourite, because Luke had said he’d be special, be powerful, strong in the Force, but he’d held back. Constantly. Not challenging his abilities, keeping him on the same level with less gifted padawans, chiding him if he “pushed too far,” as if he were scared of what he were truly capable of.

Then he’d learned what Luke Skywalker really thought of him.

Snoke had saved him, given him purpose, taken his name and given him a new one, stripped his attachments and made him whole. Honed him like the perfect weapon, trained him, pushed him to his limits instead of holding him back. But he’d tortured him for small things. Trained him with gruelling sessions where he was denied comforts of sleep, water, food. He was demeaned. Stripped of identity as a person, only acknowledged as a weapon- all the while praising his abilities, his lineage, preened with promises of greatness. Only to be called a child, to be told without words that Snoke was done with him. That nothing else could be gained from him, and the deformed Supreme Leader had his sights on the girl. Kylo knew Snoke wanted her as his new apprentice to replace the broken failure, or to destroy her- and using Kylo to do so, in hopes he’d be destroyed as well.

Hux had told him he didn’t trust Snoke.He had told Kylo that Snoke was not going to let him have anyone outside of his tutelage and manipulation. The attempts on his life, his friends and family, then the assassins that nearly claimed the lives of his mothers, the threat to kill Hux himself if their relationship persisted- and then Snoke had confirmed what Hux had believed, what Kylo had shot down when Hux had been most vulnerable and afraid.

What hit him hardest was that his father had been right, too.

_“That’s what Snoke wants you to believe, but you know he’s just using you for your powers, and once he gets all he can get from you, he’ll toss you aside, crush you.”_

His grip was slipping. The crack that had formed in his psyche was deepening, and he was losing hold of who he was. He knew he wasn’t Ben Organa Solo anymore. He never could be again. That was lost, destroyed long ago- by his own hands. But Kylo Ren was not him. Not anymore, and it was starting to feel like he never had been.

He was a lie draped in the trappings of a liar.

His anger flared came to life in an instant, a leaping, snarling creature of fire that seemed to claw at his ribs, lick at his heart and threatened to burn him from the inside out. He didn’t know who he was anymore, and the mask he held in his hand seemed to taunt him, remind him that he no longer had a sense of self. It wasn’t him. Never had been. It was a cruel joke Snoke had had him wear as a way of muzzling him. It had been, for a time, something that made him feel secure in his role, himself. Now, it was like looking at the dagger he’d removed from his back.

Kylo smashed the mask into the wall. The Force was howling and screaming inside him like a maelstrom, and around him, the metal of the walls of the turbolift creaked, twisted and peeled away. He kept slamming the mask into the wall, over and over again, ignoring how the turbolift groaned and creaked in protest, how his knuckled ached under his gloves, and how his wound was leaking into his boots and leaving bloody footprints on the floor.

The turbolift doors opened and two frightened officers took an instinctive step backward from the seething man, his face flushed, sweaty and his eyes blazing with a preternatural light.

“Get my ship ready,” Kylo snarled, and swept from the turbolift, leaving the twisted remains of his mask on the floor behind him.

* * *

Chandrila was a mass of panic as everyone fought to get to their ships and depart the planet, afraid that the former seat of the Senate would be targeted next by the First Order and its war machine.

Only a handful of people- Resistance sympathisers- knew the Starkiller Base was in ruins, but that didn’t quell the fear of the masses. If the First Order could make one, they could make another. The Emperor had two Death Stars, after all, and the First Order was leaps and bounds ahead of the long dead Empire. Hux’s speech had been recorded and played to the masses, and everywhere, people flinched at the name of the General that commanded such a weapon, or seemed to be reconsidering standing against a man who commanded such a military and firepower at such a young age. Already, they were calling him Starkiller. The chaos it sowed was counterpoint to the order that the First Order, by nature and name, sought to bring to the galaxy, but Senator Lachlan Kersyva was enjoying it greatly.

“Senator, we really should be going,” remarked his assistant, a nervous young woman named Fiadh Vetar. Her dark red curly hair was loose and frizzy from the nervous habit she had of tugging at errant curls, and her robe was dishevelled- likely from a frenzy of packing.

“Is my ship ready, then?” he replied almost lazily, getting up from behind his desk, smoothing back his shoulder length black hair and tying it back. Fiadh nodded, her green eyes wide with nerves- which was not unusual, as the young woman was constantly on the verge of a panic attack, it seemed. She was a tightly wound ball of nerves, but it made her a perfect assistant- she missed absolutely nothing.

“The Venatrix is ready, yes, Sir,” she said, holding out his packed case. “I’ve already packed all your most important documents, everything non-classified was sent ahead, along with your things.”

The Senator smiled at his assistant fondly, and kissed her freckled forehead.

“Then you’d best be off, too,” he said, and cut her off as she made to protest. “No buts. I’ve arranged for you to travel home First Class, and your parents should be waiting for you on Arkanis. You’ve been the best assistant I could ask for, I could do no less.”

Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes became glassy. She hesitated for one moment, then launched herself at him, hugging him tight.

“Please be safe, Senator. You’re like the older brother I never had,” she said, voice muffled as she pressed her face into his robes. He patted her back comfortingly, letting the embrace last a bit longer before pushing her back a bit.

“I shall, Fiadh. Now go, before things get too chaotic. I shall see you on Arkanis.’

He watched her go reluctantly, then sighed once she was gone from the office. He locked the door and activated the sound dampeners before keying up his holocommunicator. He entered the specific keycode, and waited. It didn’t take long for the holo of a man in white to appear, and the chrome armoured figure of Phasma at his side. The Captain reported directly to Hux, so Lachlan had gotten used to her being part of his debriefings- Phasma was practically honorary Security Bureau, as she was the picture of discretion. She was also the one Hux trusted the most.

“Agent Kersyva, report,” he said without greeting. Assistant Director Viciu was not one to waste time.

“As has been reported earlier, most, if not all of the representatives have fled Chandrila and withdrawn their fleets back to their homeworld shortly after the destruction of Hosnian Prime. An emergency session was held, but it was chaos, and many representatives. Only a handful of Resistance sympathisers managed to get news out of Starkiller Base’s destruction, but the panic of Hosnian Prime, and the rumours I spread of Chandrila being the next likely target have people disregarding the rabble,” he reported.

“And the rabble?” Viciu prompted.

“Already being taken care of. Their ship was sabotaged a few hours ago by Revas, and he has already prepped the Venatrix for our departure. As for the planet itself, Chandrila is being evacuated of all Senators. Their attempt at reconvening and trying to decide what to do about Hosnian Prime and whether a unified front and defence should be made was shot down. It’s every planet and system for themselves, and everyone is abandoning ship to see to their own homeworld’s defence.”

“What of our allies?” Viciu asked.

“I assured them their planets would be protected by the First Order, and those neighbouring undecided planets will definitely be an example of why asking for First Order protection is the best thing they can do,” Lachlan said slyly. “I’ve already gotten the Black Sun to do some fly-bys on those undecided planets, and I hope to hear from them soon enough.”

“The Black Sun is cooperating?” Phasma asked, clearly surprised. Lachlan nodded.

“They’re looking to regain ground, notoriety and infamy. Having their actions paid for anonymously by the First Order and having sanctioned permission to terrorise a few planets was a good start to get them to play along. They’ll likely need a severance pay to stop the harassment, but we’ll slit that throat when we get to it.”

“Are you heading back to Arkanis now?” Viciu asked.

“The Venatrix is merely awaiting my boarding,” Lachlan replied.

“Good. You have more recruitment tasks waiting for you. I will forward them to your estate.”

Lachlan tilted his head, smelling something interesting.

“No agent dispatch?”

Viciu’s lips slowly curved in a hungry, predatory smile.

“We’re closing in on the remainder of the Resistance. General Hux’s technology found their jump point, and we’re about to emerge on their flank- with the Supremacy and the escort fleet.”

Lachlan felt a chill run down his spine and he wished he were there on the Supremacy, being primed to run combat in the Venatrix instead of running recruitment. He was still very, very sore about his personal TIE being destroyed on the Starkiller Base, and was itching to use his Corvette to wreak some havoc in revenge. He turned his gaze to Phasma and grinned.

“Do tell your lovely partner to kill a few X-Wing pests for me,” he said, resigned to his duty that was given him. He knew better than to wish for what wasn’t possible. Orders were orders. Besides, he would see the ship of those Resistance sympathisers blow up when they tried to make the jump to hyperspace soon enough.

“I shall,” Phasma said, her voice cool as ever, but Lachlan was a Loyalty Officer before he was an agent or Senator, and he knew she was smiling fondly under the helmet. It was good to know she was human under that armour. Beside her, Viciu gave the slightest satisfied smirk before nodding.

“Report in when you reach Arkanis,” he instructed, and Lachlan gave a curt nod in return.

“Acknowledged. Kersyva out,” he said, and closed the connection.

He gathered his things and only paused long enough to ensure he’d wiped everything before leaving the office. He practically strolled down the street to the hangar where his ship waited, an island of calm in a sea of chaos as people scurried past, clutching parcels, cases, and crates of belongings they sought to save. Ships were being loaded, lines were formed for public transport that wrapped around corners, and the air will filled with voices all venting their fear, frustration and anger. All the while, the feeds were showing public service announcements on proper evacuation protocols, showed lists of assistance for those who needed help getting off world, and some were news feeds that were going over the events of Hosnian Prime.

Lachlan reached his private hangar and admired his ship as he approached her, his grey eyes glittering fondly. The Venatrix was a Corvette of typical design, but her plain exterior belied the advanced technology she held within. State of the art hyperdrive that made her one of the fastest ships in the First Order’s fleet- which meant she outstripped most of any make, save for that of the Chiss. Turbolasers, ion cannons, stealth devices and advanced deflector shields.

Her legacy, however, was more impressive. She was one of four Corvettes dubbed “The Daughters of Tarkin,” as each identical Corvette was modelled after the Carrion Spike, Grand Moff Tarkin’s personal ship, which at its time, had been one of the most dangerous and advanced ships in the Imperial fleet. When Terex had taken hold of the Carrion Spike and made her his own, First Order techs and shipwrights had studied her when she was docked with the fleet, and made improved copies of her.

Each of the ships was named in a scheme that was a nod to Tarkin’s flagship, the Executrix. The Venatrix, Cultrix, Ultrix and the Imperatrix made the squadron of Corvettes known lovingly as “The Daughters of Tarkin.” They were assigned to top cipher agents who regularly worked in the field in the interest of subterfuge, recruitment and subversion for the First Order- The Imperatrix was actually the personal ship of Assistant Director Viciu. Lachlan was given the Venatrix, with his small crew of eight agents who worked under him. They were cipher agents who worked publicly as IT, but were monitoring information for their superior. The Venatrix was where most of the data was sent, as her computers had incredible encryption and security.

His partner, Revas Morathil, had clearly been waiting for him. He popped his head out of the hatchway and nodded as Lachlan approached. The pale man with his lean face, silver hair, pale blue eyes and tall, lean frame was teasingly called Ghost by his fellow Loyalty Officers. He was a Loyalty Officer, just like Lachlan, and his appearance was incredibly deceptive- he looked like someone who spent their entire time in front of a computer, never seeing any sunlight, but Lachlan knew all too well of the muscles that his uniform concealed, and how fast the man could throw a knife.

“She’s ready to go. If we don’t get bumped down in the queue, we should have a first row seat to the carnage of the rabble’s ship blowing to hell,” he said, taking Lachlan’s case and stowing it as his superior took his seat in the captain’s chair.

“Excellent. We have more recruitment orders after we touch base at Arkanis,” Lachlan said as he waited for the go-ahead from control to lift off. Light spilled in from overhead as the hangar bay doors opened above, and he carefully activated the repulsorlifts to have the Venatrix lazily lift up and head for the sky.

“No runner?” Revas asked as he took his spot in the co-pilot’s seat.

“The Supremacy is chasing down the Resistance. Apparently, Hux got the hyperspace tracking working just in time, and they’re closing in on them,” Lachlan replied as he slid into their queue spot.

Revas grinned widely, his brilliant white teeth flashing.

“I hate that we’ll miss it, but maybe that’ll mean we’ll get some R and R once we finish this mission.”

“We can only hope, but with the Black Sun under our wing, I imagine we’ll have our work cut out for us. You remember what happened with the pirates at the Colossus.”

“Yeah, I remember. Let’s hope it doesn’t go south like that. We’ve advanced a bit, I like to think,” Revas snorted as his grin faded into a scowl.

They were breaking atmosphere now, and were just above the cloudlines when an explosion just outside the gravity well of the planet created a brilliant blossom of light against the black of space. Lachlan let out a low whistle, an admiring smile spreading over his face as chaos erupted, ships veering off course and nearly colliding as they fought to avoid being caught in the explosion.

“Well,” he commented. “You certainly fubar’ed their hyperdrive, Revas. Impeccable work.”

Revas’ grin returned as chaos followed in the wake of the explosion, and Lachlan manoeuvred them smoothly through the mess and out of the way of Chandrila’s gravity shadow.

“Just doing my job,” he said, leaning back in his chair as Lachlan pulled back the lever, and the stars around them turned into the mottled white of hyperspace.

“And soon, we’ll start another one,” Lachlan said. “Go rest up. I imagine we’ll be hitting the ground running when we get to Arkanis.”

He looked at Revas to find he’d already donned his sleeping mask. The tall pale man lifted it to expose one silvery blue eye.

“Way ahead of you,” he replied with a yawn, slumping in his seat.

“You could sleep in your bunk, you know,” Lachlan pointed out. He doubted Lachlan had actually slept in a bed in the past week, as the man was prone to work-induced insomnia, and had the habit of taking catnaps wherever he could. Revas waved dismissively.

“I figure with the weight of that case, you have work to do. I’ll stay here and catnap while you finish your work. A few quick winks here is better than dealing with the bureaucracy you have to handle on a daily basis,” Revas said, sliding his mask back down. “Might as well go do that crap in the comfort of your quarters. The sound of the cockpit is soothing, in any case, so I’ve got it handled.”

Lachlan mussed Revas’ hair affectionately before heading to his cabin to process all the sliced records of each planet’s current status, fleet size, and so forth, all to be sent to the FOISB. His superior was waiting for his report, and Viciu was patient, but not when it came to reports. Lachlan made himself some caff before settling in at his desk- it was going to be a short trip, but he had much to get done in his part of dismantling what was left of the Republic. His life was the First Order, and he’d destroy anything- or anyone- that got in the way of the Order’s advance.


	3. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux gets news he didn't want- and realises he'd been tempting fate for far too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna be some very slight mentions of miscarriage in hypothetical situations, unspoken offer of abortion, and mentions of phantom menstruation. Read with care, but it's not too heavy. (And yes, Phantom Menstruation is a thing; trans masc folks can still feel period pain from time to time, just like trans fem folks can get period pain, too!)

Hux watched nervously as the TIEs buzzed around the Resistance fleet. The X-wings must have been in the middle of refuelling or repair, as they weren’t swarming out to meet the threat. Which should have been a good thing, but the Resistance ships had started to high tail it- they knew they didn’t have the resources to jump again when they could be tracked, but they were managing to stay out of range of the Order’s weaponry just enough to where their shields could withstand the barrage.

He eyed the Steadfast, which was running point, and had a clear path. He considered. He could order a microjump of a few ships, but given the track record of the other commanding officers not working in harmony with his methods, he didn’t trust them to do it right and get in range. Especially the Steadfast, which was Pryde’s ship- and where Pryde still was, much to Hux’s satisfaction, because the man was not on the Supremacy with the other officers. He squashed the idea of a microjump. No, he expected if any of the other ships tried a microjump without the aid of the Finalizer, they’d jump through the Resistance fleet, or another Order ship. Such a thing could be catastrophic for both sides, and Hux wouldn’t risk his fleet like that. Between the mass of the larger Order ships, and the momentum of the smaller fleeing ships, they simply had to wait for their fuel to run out. Momentum would only carry them so far without fuel to power their trajectory, and once they ran out and were in range, they would be destroyed.

The TIEs, however, had no problem getting close- but they were slowly getting out of cover fire range. Kylo had taken point in his Silencer with the command “Follow my lead,” and the squadrons had followed without question. Hux watched Kylo’s Silencer spin and dart across the distance between the fleets until he couldn’t see him with his naked eye, and then followed his movement on the displays. Beside him, Phasma stood silent and still- and Hux suspected that she was watching the displays as well. At his other side, Mitaka was watching the readouts with a nervous eye, and Hux briefly wondered if he was nervous about the Resistance escaping, or if he, too, was worried about a certain someone in a TIE out there in the thick of it- and if that someone was Dashelle.

There was an explosion from the Raddus, and Hux clenched his fists, a wave of nausea rising in his stomach again. The readouts showed a moment later that a well placed missile from Kylo’s Silencer had nearly destroyed the hangar bay, and with it, most, if not all the X-wings contained within. Hux smirked in satisfaction, smug in the knowledge that Dameron’s X-wing was now destroyed, but his stomach continued to give him issues, pulling and tugging at him with waves and ripples of nausea. He made a mental note to go to the medbay once this was over- he was worried his stress had finally given him the ulcer he’d joked about Kylo giving him.

He still wasn’t comfortable with how far away the TIEs were, though- even Phasma was looking tense. He reached for his comm and hailed Kylo.

“Ren, we can’t cover you from this distance. You did well in disabling their squadrons, now return to the fleet.”

Kylo seemed angry, frustrated, even a bit shaken- and Hux realised he must have had a brush with his mother in the Force. All the more reason for him to come back.

 _Kylo. Come back. I can’t lose you. Please_ , he asked quietly. Over their bond, he felt Kylo relent, and moments later, the TIEs began to loop back towards the fleet- but not after another explosion rocked the Raddus, and Hux felt Kylo jerk over their bond, and saw his TIE stagger. He felt the shock and conflict in Kylo, and knew, somehow, his mother had been affected by the shot. Whether she died or not, he couldn’t tell.

Kylo-

 _She’s not dead, she was ejected into space but she’s not dead, Armitage_ , Kylo babbled as the squadrons came back to nestle into the Supremacy’s hangar bay. _She made it back to the Raddus, she’s alive_.

Hux was not going to ask how he knew, or how that was possible. He knew the answer to that already- the Force.

_I'm going to the medbay, Kylo. Come back to me safely._

_Armitage, are you okay?_

_Still nauseous. Just getting some medication. I'll be fine._

“Well. Let me know if anything changes,” he told Mitaka. “I will be back shortly.”

“You look peaky, Sir,” Phasma said noncommittally. “You should go to the medbay.”

“That’s where I was headed,” Hux said softly so only she would hear. She tilted her head at him.

“Snoke?” she said, even softer, and he knew she was worried that Snoke’s punishment had done more damage than what was reported. Hux shook his head.

“I think the stress is finally giving me that ulcer I joked about,” he said in an attempt at levity. Phasma, however, took it seriously.

“Not surprised. I will hold here until you can return.”

Hux gave her an appreciative nod, then departed for the medbay. Doctor Weyland would likely send him off with some anti-emetics, some antacids, and probably an order to get some sleep and a liquid diet. He would take an hour nap if necessary, take the meds, but would be back on the bridge as soon as he could. Things were too precarious to be sleeping, and his rank didn’t afford such a thing when in the middle of pursuing the Resistance. Not when they were so close to finishing them off. A little nausea didn’t excuse him from his responsibilities.

It was likely nothing.

He tried telling himself that when he had to stop at a refresher, barely making it to a toilet before he vomited. It took a few minutes before his stomach was empty and the convulsing stopped, and his face was covered in a sheen of sweat. Nothing. Just stress. He wasn’t getting sick, he never got sick. He kept telling himself that as he washed his hands, splashed his face with cold water and tried to ignore the flush of fever in his cheeks. It was likely nothing, and that was what he told himself as he entered the medbay and approached his doctor.

“What can I do for you, General?” Weyland asked, getting up from her desk. “Did Lord Ren destroy his probe?”

“Probably, but I’m here for myself, actually,” Hux said. “And I suspect it has to do with Ren- I think he may have finally given me an ulcer, after all.”

“Mm. You do look flushed. Stomach issues?” Weyland asked as she motioned for him to come into an exam room. She locked the door behind him and turned on the privacy settings of the sound dampeners as Hux removed his coat and sat on the exam table.

“Nausea,” Hux replied as she arranged her stethoscope and began listening to his lungs, his upper and lower abdomen. She frowned.

“I don’t hear any abnormalities in your gut. Are you burping, having stomach pain, any blood or actual vomiting?” she asked, putting on gloves and helping him lie back so she could palpate his stomach.

“Mostly nausea, but I did vomit about five minutes ago- no blood in it. It started this morning- right after the… the incident over D’Qar.”

Weyland studied him, making notes that there was no rebound pain, no tenderness that he was reacting to.

“Before or after Snoke flung you, Sir?” she asked, and her tone was not mocking, but disapproving of Snoke’s treatment of him, and concern for his well-being. “And why didn’t you mention this when I was patching up your nose?”

“Because it wasn’t serious or an issue until now,” he groused.

“When did you last eat?” she asked, pulling out a thermometer and scanning his forehead, then noting the temperature on her datapad. Her tone was that of an old argument waiting to resurface- she was constantly reminding him that indulging every few days in a good meal was not a substitute for actual meals every eight hours that weren’t ration bars. Hux screwed up his nose, thinking.

“A quick ration bar eight hours ago,” he said, and Weyland sighed, but didn’t comment.

“And no pain with an empty stomach?”

Hux shook his head, and she quirked a perfectly arched black eyebrow, pursing her full lips.

“General, this doesn’t sound like an ulcer. Did you eat anything that might have been bad, left out? Any diarrhoea, or other lower GI issues?”

“No,” Hux said. “Though, to be honest, the thought of eating anything right now is abhorrent. You think I have a stomach virus or food poisoning?”

“That’s my main suspicion. I’m just going to give you a scan and check your vitals first, then I’ll mix up the reagents for an H Pylori breath test,” Weyland said, pulling out the blood pressure cuff.

“As long as it doesn’t take too much time- I need to be back on the bridge,” Hux said as he undid his tunic’s sealing seam and pulled his arm out of one sleeve to give her access to his upper arm. She wrapped the cuff around his bicep, and keyed it up. As it worked, she took his pulse and counted his respirations, made notes of his colour and presentation, then ran her scanner over his medical chip.

Every First Order military member had a medical chip implanted in the skin behind their ear- it was the size of a small grain, and could be mistaken for a colourless mole or slightly raised freckle. The chip was programmed with baseline levels of blood chemistry, immune system responses, hormone levels, and IgE proteins, as well as a multitude of factors that varied by each person and their unique medical needs. It made things much easier to know at a glance if something was very, very off, and gave a starting point for medical staff to work from when diagnosing any illness or condition.

“Blood pressure is ninety-six over sixty-five. Still low, but higher than last time, so that’s good,” Weyland commented. “Pulse is sixty-four, excellent as always, and respirations are twelve per minute. Your vitals are always so lovely, General.”

“I still feel awful,” Hux said grumpily.

“Hm. Your readings look normal so far,” Weyland said, going over the readings on her scanner’s display. “RBC’s normal, WBC’s normal, good oximetry, your chemistry is good, no inflammation as of- huh. That must be an error.”

“What’s an error?” Hux asked. Weyland picked up a different scanner- one he was more familiar with, as she used it to scan his hormone implant to check its performance before maintenance and tune-ups.

“Your hormone levels are…. Well. They’re opposite of what they should be. Undo your belt so I can scan your implant?”

Hux hastily undid his belt and pulled the waist of his pants down to expose his pale hip, allowing Weyland to run the scanner over the port. The scanner beeped angrily in a negative, Weyland tapped it, reset it, and scanned again. The scanner made the same noise, so Weyland picked up a second one, and to Hux’s growing confusion and panic, it made the same sound- an angry buzz that said his implant was malfunctioning.

“Sir.. I’m going to have to do a blood test, if you’ll permit me.”

Hux removed his tunic all the way, and wordlessly held out his arm. Weyland raised an armrest to support his elbow, and wheeled over a tray with phlebotomy tools. A quick tourniquet, a quicker and nearly painless draw later, Weyland was loading a tube of blood into a reader as he held pressure on the draw site. As the sample was spun down and processed, Weyland bandaged him up, and went over the results from her scanner again, compared it to something in her notes, and shook her head.

The reader beeped, and Weyland went over the results. Hux gnawed on his lower lip. Her nervousness was putting him on edge.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice tense.

“Ah. Well, Sir, it looks like your implant is fried,” Weyland began, and Hux groaned.

“Don’t tell me,” he ground out. “My ovaries are waking up and I’m about to start bleeding. Is that what it is? Is there a way to stop it?”

“Sir…. Your hormone levels have been out of order for months now- three, maybe four, that I can tell. Your ovaries have been ‘awake’ for at least two.”

Hux frowned. Surely he should have bled before now, so what did-

“Oh no.”

Weyland bit her bottom lip. She was conflicted- she did not want to be the one to say it, and she did not want to be the one to possibly cause him any sort of life-changing distress. Hux swayed on the exam table, leaning back against the backrest as the blood drained from his face.

“It’s just a hormone flux. Tell me it’s just a hormone flux,” he said weakly. Weyland drew a deep breath and steadied herself.

“Sir… I think, given the results, I just have to look to confirm.”

She pulled his undershirt up, exposing his pale stomach. His lower stomach was slightly distended- barely enough to show any difference, as Hux had a soft stomach he’d never really been able to get rid of. Kylo loved it too much, in any case, loving to rest his head on Hux’s stomach and nap while Hux worked. He’d passed off the slight firmness of his belly as bloating from nausea, and from phantom menstruation, which occasionally happened once or twice a year, giving him some cramps, bloating and discomfort.

“Bloating from the nausea?” Hux asked, almost pleading.

Weyland palpated his stomach, and lifted a brow.

“Sir… that’s not bloating. You’re pregnant.”

Hux was glad he’d already laid back- he’d known as soon as she said his ovaries were awake, and he realised it was morning sickness and not an ulcer, but as soon as she said the words, he fainted, his last thoughts those two words over and over again.

_You’re pregnant._

* * *

Kylo was not happy that Hux had gone to the medbay while he was still landing and getting out of his TIE- and hadn’t told him. Hux had told him he was fine, but apparently, that was not the case. He headed that way to see if Hux was all right, but he realised… he needed another med probe. He’d smashed the one Doctor Weyland had given him. Hux was not going to be happy with that, but it was a good excuse to run into him. However, Hux was locked away in an exam room with Weyland, and from what he could tell, it was serious. Possibly to do with the sickness he’d thought he’d sensed on him. Well, good, he thought. He needed Hux to take better care of himself.

Then he felt Hux pass out over their link.

“Weyland!” he roared, pounding his fist on the door. “What’s going on? What happened to him?”

The door opened, and Weyland stepped out, but shut the door behind him. She gave him a look that bore all the authority of a medical professional protecting a patient.

“My Lord, I would please ask you to keep it down. The General isn’t well and needs a bit of rest.”

“Rest? Not well? What’s wrong with him?” Kylo demanded, his pulse quickening. Hux had been sick, and now he was unconscious, and all Kylo could think was that it was his fault for not noticing sooner. Weyland held up her hands in a placating, reassuring manner.

“Stomach bug and a bad diet is all,” she soothed. “He has been ignoring the diet I’ve pressed on him for years and his stomach is being rebellious. He’s fine. I put him on drip with some fluids, gave him an anti-emetic, and he’s resting. Once he’s awake, I’ll be all but forcing a medically approved meal down his gullet.”

“He was distressed,” Kylo pressed. “What happened?”

“I told him he needed to rest, that’s what happened, Sir,” Weyland replied. “He wanted to go back to the bridge, but I told him he was possibly contagious and needed two hours or so of rest and fluids, some antibiotics and medication.”

Kylo sighed. That sounded like Hux, all right- more concerned about work than his own well-being. Just as well, as he was safer in the medbay, away from the bridge where Snoke had better access to him, and where he was safe from anyone else who might seek to drag him back to Snoke. He wanted to make sure he stayed safe, however.

“I will send Ap’lek to stand watch at his door,” he told Weyland, whose eyes widened.

“Sir, that’s not necessary, really- he’s mildly sedated from the anti-emetic, he won’t be leaving-” she cut off at the look on his face.

 _Patient-Doctor confidentiality_ , he said, being as gentle as he could- and was surprised when she only flinched a bit from the intrusion. She had a mind very similarly structured to Hux’s, and just as strong.

“Sir?”

_Supreme Leader Snoke is not pleased with him right now. He would be safer here, and I will feel better if one of my Knights is here to ensure that safety._

Weyland’s eyes widened momentarily at the gravity of the situation- the statement, the fact that Ren was trusting and confiding in her- and she nodded, growing serious.

“As you command, my Lord. I will give Knight Ap’lek whatever he needs- within reason, of course. The last time he was in here he asked if I could graft claws onto his distal carpals.”

Kylo laughed- that was very like Ap’lek.

“I’ll tell him to behave,” he replied, then grew serious again.

He isn’t here, as far as you’re concerned. You have a sick Loyalty Officer in there, and Hux went to his quarters to rest as you ordered.

Weyland nodded.

“Understood, Sir,” she said, and went to her desk. Kylo looked at her sheepishly.

“Before I go…. I need another med probe.”

Weyland shook her head, amused, but dug one out, activated it, and began programming the droid with Kylo’s medical files. As she worked, Kylo pressed his hand to the door, sensing Hux sleeping peacefully within, and mentally stroked his mind. Sedated as he was, Hux made no response, save for a tiny flicker of reaction. Kylo sighed, then left the med reached out for Ap’lek, who answered at his leisure- as he was wont to do.

_What._

_Don’t ‘what’ me, you ass_ , Kylo retorted. _I need you to camp out for a bit in the medbay._

 _Why?_ Ap’lek all but complained. _I was just about to watch Kuruk shove ten steamed bantha buns in his mouth._

Kylo was amused at the mental image, but this wasn’t the time.

_I’ll save you the suspense- he’ll be able to manage six before he’ll start choking and spitting them all over the floor while you all laugh yourselves silly._

Ap’lek sighed, but it was of acknowledged, amused defeat. It wasn’t the first time Kuruk had tried something of the sort, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

_Mind telling me why I’m going to the medbay?_

_You’re making sure no one goes after Hux._

That got his attention, and he could feel his Knights all tuning in out of concern and curiosity. Though Hux wasn’t able to use the Force, and wasn’t a follower of the Ren, and he’d amused them so often with his demands for cleanliness and how irritated he’d gotten with the dirt they’d tracked into the ship, they had grown to respect the one man who had ‘tamed’ their leader. Once they’d seen Hux take Kylo down in sparring a few times, they’d started to like him, and when Kylo showed them how Hux was a void in the Force, they’d found him fascinating. All in all, the Knights of Ren accepted Hux in an odd, tentative way, and if Kylo told them he was important, they’d watch out for him.

_Who is after him?_

_The usual_ , Kylo said dismissively- better to leave out any mentions of Snoke. _But after the clusterfuck of Starkiller Base, and now D’qar, he’s a target for upstarts- and right now, he’s sick. It’s too good an opportunity for Pryde and his lackeys to pass up. He’s in the medbay in a private room, and Weyland is noting that Hux is in his quarters, not the medbay. I still want one of you to guard him._

 _Weyland? I’m on it_ , Ap’lek said gleefully. It was no secret Ap’lek was enamoured with the doctor, but despite everything, was too awkward to directly court her. It was why Kylo had picked Ap’lek- the man would have incentives to stay.

_Good. Thank you._

“All set,” Weyland announced, and the probe floated over to immediately prod at Kylo’s side. Kylo shooed the droid away.

“Room, then repair,” he told it, and it obediently fell to his side, waiting to follow.

“Thank you, Doctor,” he said softly. She fixed her unnerving aqua eyes on him.

“He’ll be safe. I promise. Please let the droid tend to your wound, Sir.”

Kylo nodded, gave the closed door one more glance, then headed for Hux’s quarters, the droid following him. Weyland sighed and went back to work- she needed to catch up on these notes before Ap’lek showed up and began his endearingly awkward flirting. Maybe this time, with a few hours together, the masked man might actually ask her to dinner this time.

—

Hux woke two hours later, but made no move to get up. He felt physically refreshed after the nap, and his nausea finally was under control, but his nerves were singing under his skin.

_How was I such an idiot? How did I not know? How did I mess up this badly?_

He was an idiot because he should have taken contraceptives, or made Kylo wear a condom. He knew he still had the possibility of getting pregnant, but after decades of his ovaries showing no signs of actually ovulating, he’d gotten arrogant. He should have known this was going to happen sooner or later- what with Kylo frying electronics and breaking glass every time he orgasmed, and that damned Skywalker fertility. He also knew- he KNEW, it was part of the education material for anyone in the Order seeking to transition, regardless of age- that with age, the ovaries would release multiple ovum to increase the chances of successful fertilisation as a last-ditch attempt at producing offspring before menopause hit. Weyland had suggested removing his ovaries, to freeze them until he needed them, but he’d brushed it off, saying it was better to keep them where they were.

He knew all of this, and still, he’d thrown caution to the wind, and had Kylo spill his seed inside him multiple times a day for over two years. He had no reason to be this surprised, no reason to be this shocked. It was his fault, and he should have known better. The question now was, what was he going to do about it?

Without thinking, he slid his hand to his stomach, cradling his lower abdomen. He thought about what he knew of pregnancy, and recalled that at this point, the foetus would be about an ounce, and the length of his palm. He’d researched pregnancy before, when a particularly strong nesting urge had caught him up in a flight of fancy, and he’d looked at what he’d need to do to have a safe pregnancy, what to do with his hormones, what to expect, the stages of pregnancy and when any pregnancy would be vulnerable, viable, and safe- the whole gamut.

He almost panicked then- he’d been drinking, smoking, taking such horrible care of himself periodically. What damage might he have done? He desperately thought back- he had not been drunk, even tipsy in the past few months. He’d only smoked a cigarra after sex with Kylo. He hadn’t done incredibly well with eating, but after Kylo’s persistence, he’d caved and started a regimen of vitamins that were more inclusive and encompassing than the normal regimen the Order gave to all its personnel. He’d also started infusing his water with various sachets of hydration enhancers and electrolytes, as well as some additional nutrients. He hadn’t done perfectly, but… he hadn’t been good, either.

He recalled then that the third month was the “homestretch” for whether a pregnancy was viable or not. Miscarriages happened usually between conception and the third month. Once the fourth month had come and gone, the survival rate was more certain, and after month five, much more so. It wasn’t until month seven could men like himself breathe easy- and even then, being careful was recommended. He hadn’t lost it yet, and with that, he felt a small bit of relief- and shocked revelation at the fact.

He was relieved he hadn’t lost it. That answered the question of “Do I want this?” loud and clear. He stroked the almost imperceptible swell of his belly, feeling the firmness of the developing life within, and his breath shook, caught, and he exhaled sharply to get his breathing going again.

_I’m keeping it._

He had no idea how Kylo would react, what he’d think, what he’d say. Would Kylo want children with him? It wasn’t something they’d discussed- Hux was too shy to even consider it. His own relationship with his capability to bear children, his gender, and how it was perceived all twined into a knot he couldn’t untie, but it was tied with string only he could see. He couldn’t ask someone else to help him untie the complicated associations, feelings and confusion between himself, his gender, and the act of being a parent, and bearing children. That was his task- and now, he was going to have to double time that process, because in six months, galaxy willing, he’d be a father…. With or without Kylo.

He just hoped it would be with him. Which only begged the question- how had Kylo not known? Did his odd lack of presence in the Force hide the developing child within him from Kylo’s senses? Did the child just not have that spark yet? Or was the child like him, and a void in the Force, and therefore unseen by those sensitive to it? So many questions, and he was too scared to ask Kylo, because he didn’t know if the man he loved was going to be part of this. Hux was drawn from his thoughts as there was a knock at the door, and he waited for his visitor to announce themselves, his hand slipping to the knife in his belt.

“General, it’s Doctor Weyland.”

“Come in,” he said carefully, not moving his hand from where it lightly rested on the handle of the throwing knife.

The door opened, and Weyland came in, shutting it behind her. Hux let his hand drop from the knife as she sat in the chair beside him. She had a container in her lap, and on top of that, she had another container that held an autoclaved pack of medical tools wrapped in sealed sterilised paper, an anaesthesia kit, and a folded medical gown. She gave him a serious look.

“You do not have to make a decision here or now,” she began, and Hux cut her off.

“I’m keeping it.”

Her surprise was unmistakable, but she recovered quickly, and she set the container of medical supplies aside. She opened the second container, and began showing him the contents. Vitamins, nutrient boosters, lotions, anti-emetics, pregnancy safe painkillers, pamphlets of exercises and activities, safe foods and drink, habits to adopt, and ways to relieve stress. He looked over it all, and bit back the giddy smile that threatened to spread over his lips as Weyland showed him the kit she’d made for him.

“I can’t fit it in a box, but I will have a specialised pillow sent to your quarters that will support your back, and keep your hips open and supported- it will keep your legs level, too, to reduce swelling in your ankles. I will also send a shower chair, and some other supplies to help you exercise in a more baby-friendly way. I can also write a medical recommendation for a thicker coat to hide your belly in the later trimesters,” she said matter-of-factly as she repacked the kit and closed it.

“In the meantime,” she continued, interrupting Hux as he opened his mouth to speak, “You have doctor’s orders to get at least eight hours of sleep, three meals a day, and as much water as you can stomach. No more smoking, no more alcohol. I will order an official gestational panel once you’ve been properly rested, fed and hydrated so we get some good baselines and see where we’re at.”

“What if I did damage to it?” Hux asked quietly.

“You’d have miscarried,” she said simply. “Obviously, your pregnancy is still viable. We’ll still run tests once you’re far enough along to make sure there’s no issues that might interfere with a healthy and safe birth, but, Sir…”

She looked at him with a blunt open honesty that made him blink, taken aback.

“What?”

“I know Kylo Ren is the father. He ordered one of his Knights to protect you while you slept,” she said as he began to protest. “I also know, because I am his doctor, who his family is. Between the Force, and his family being notoriously prolific… I don’t foresee any issues with this baby being born healthy and whole.”

Hux had no words, only relief that his doctor knew, didn’t make a fuss, and believed his unborn child would be alright, despite the fact that he was a walking disaster when it came to self care- which he swore he would do better from here on out.

“Thank you, Doctor,” he said softly.

He knew what he needed to do- he just wasn’t sure if doing so would have the outcome he wanted, or if he even had time to do so, with their target just in reach, and his own fate hanging in the balance. 


	4. Breaking Apart and Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to fall apart- but there's someone to catch the pieces as they tumble.

Phasma grunted as she lifted herself up. Sweat shone on her arms, her face and legs.

“Are you done yet, love?” Maetra asked, kissing Phasma on the nose as they both lifted over the bar.

“Nope,” Phasma said, lowering herself, then pulling up again. “I need to do a full even hundred. Ten more to go.”

Maetra sighed affectionately, and wrapped her arms and legs tighter around Phasma’s ribs and waist, and it was this scene that Hux walked in on- Maetra clinging to Phasma as the taller woman did pull ups, getting a kiss of encouragement from Maetra with every successful lift over the bar. He chuckled, and Phasma looked over at him with a grin. Maetra looked over her shoulder.

“Hey, boss man,” she called. “You feeling better? Ren said you were feeling peaky.”

“Food poisoning,” Hux said helplessly. “Ate a bad ration bar. Apparently, they _do_ have an expiration date.”

“Or you were already sick- I’ve eaten expired ration bars without issue,” Phasma said, straightening her legs so Maetra could drop to the mat before she dropped from the bar.

“Phasma, you grew up on an irradiated planet. Your stomach is likely made of durasteel at this point,” Hux pointed out as Phasma wiped the sweat from her face with a towel.

“I also don’t forget to eat,” she retorted, plopping down on the mat and chugging from her water bottle. “Though you look like you might be doing a bit better as of late, nausea aside. Looks like you actually gained, what, five pounds?”

“If we’re done focusing on my stomach,” Hux said, almost nervously. “Have you seen Kylo?”

Phasma shrugged.

“Saw him with his Knights earlier- they were working on the Night Buzzard. He was pretty agitated- worried about you, actually. You sure you’re okay? I doubt Ren would throw such a fit over an upset stomach.”

Maetra was eyeing Hux, and he was very grateful he was a void in the Force, because he did not need Maetra using the Force to tell what was going on. Speaking of….

“Why aren’t you with them?” he asked. “You’re not exactly a sleeper agent anymore.”

Maetra shrugged.

“I’m not one of his main Knights, I’m auxiliary. My main job is leading the Alpha Squadron, and not to be arrogant, but I’m damned good at it.”

“Yes, you are,” Hux agreed with a smirk, and Phasma laughed.

“What, good at it, or arrogant?” she asked, ducking as Maetra threw a towel at her.

“Both,” Hux said. “But… it’s a deserved arrogance, I think.”

Maetra smiled and snagged the water bottle from Phasma, taking a sip before handing it back to her lover, and Hux smiled fondly at them. Phasma was his closest friend, aside from Kylo, and he was glad that she had someone she trusted and loved like he did. It also made him less anxious- Phasma was dedicated to him as an ally and friend, but the Order was a means to an end, and he didn’t doubt that if things went badly, and she couldn’t fix it, she’d jump ship. And frankly, Hux wouldn’t blame her. He didn’t have it in him to abandon the Order, it was his life, but it wasn’t Phasma’s. He felt that maybe, with Maetra, she’d have more reason to stick around, and in that, Maetra gave him some comfort.

His comm pinged then.

“Hux,” he answered.

“Ah, glad you’re up and feeling better, Sir,” came Mitaka’s voice. “The Resistance are slowly shifting personnel to their flagship, and I suspect are emptying fuel from the support ships as well.”

“Understood,” Hux said, turning and heading for the lifts. “I’ll be there shortly.”

He shut his comm off, then paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Might as well get ready, you two. They are reaching the end of their meagre means.”

Maetra’s eyes flashed, and she leapt to her feet, Phasma following suit.

“See you on the bridge,” she said, and Hux headed off, but not before seeing Phasma lean down to allow Maetra to cup her face in her small hands, pressing a kiss to her lips tenderly.

He felt a twinge of envy that they could be open with their relationship, while he and Kylo had to keep theirs quiet, just between themselves and a few others. He wanted to be able to pull Kylo’s mask off and kiss him whenever he wanted, but Snoke had threatened to kill him if Kylo didn’t “end” their relationship. The thought had his gut clenching in terror, and his hand moved to his stomach reflexively, covering the tiny swell of his unborn child protectively. Snoke would surely kill him if he knew- or worse… take the child once it was born, then kill him afterwards. He gritted his teeth.

 _I will **not** allow that to happen_, he thought furiously. _You’re **my** child, and no one will take you from me._

* * *

Hux watched as the medical transport ship fell back, fuel depleted, and losing momentum. His face was twisted in smug, cruel satisfaction. Losing a medical transport would be a huge blow, and showed just how critical their fuel supplies were. He glanced over at Mitaka.

“Destroy it.”

The fleet let out a blinding salvo, and the Resistance ship was destroyed in moments, creating a cloud of useless slag and debris as the Raddus continued on, leaving it behind. Hux’s eyes glittered.

“The beginning of their end,” he said, relishing the sight. “How are their fuel reserves?”

Mitaka looked up.

“By the current calculations and the possibility of the transfer of the Anodyne’s fuel to the Raddus… still critical. Six hours or so, Sir.”

Hux’s smile was small, tight, but full of a cold hunger that sent a shiver down Mitaka’s spine. Along with the new flush of colour in Hux’s cheeks, the glitter of his eyes and the new burst of determination… he had gone from a point of mockery back into the terrifying man that the galaxy called Starkiller in hushed whispers. It heartened him to see, but the implications of what had possibly happened when he went to see Snoke tempered that hope. He hoped it wasn’t a fervent drive for his very life that drove Hux, but a renewed vigour.

Mitaka just hoped it would get him through this.

The bridge went quiet as Ren came through the doors, moving to stand beside Hux. It was clear that the staff were unnerved at seeing Kylo without his mask, and many were finding reasons to look anywhere but his face. Hux, however, had no such compunction, and studied his lover carefully. Kylo’s eyes were fixed on the viewport and the wreckage that slowly spread out before them in the wake of the Anodyne’s destruction. Hux folded his hands behind his back and waited- and silently worried Kylo would pick up on his distress.

“Is it just the Raddus, then?” Kylo asked into the silence.

“Yes, Sir,” Mitaka said carefully. “And from the looks of it, the ship was empty, save for the captain.”

Kylo’s eyes narrowed, then glazed over, as if staring at something that was not there in the bridge, or even in front of the viewport. Hux frowned, worried that Kylo was sensing what he was hoping to keep secret as long as possible, but not wanting to give away his anxiety, he cleared his throat.

“Something wrong?” he asked. Kylo didn’t answer, but made an about face and headed for the lift.

“There is an escape pod coming towards the hangar bay. Have the tractor beams pull it in, and order the troopers in the hangar bay not to approach without my command. I will be there shortly.”

Hux stared after him, blinking, even after the lift had carried him down and away towards the hangar bay.

_Kylo, what is it?_

_It’s the girl. She found Skywalker, and now she’s come to me._

Hux ground his teeth. The girl, the _scavenger_ , the one who’d been a key factor in the destruction of the Starkiller Base-

“General!”

Hux turned his attention to see Assistant Director Viciu heading for him. The shorter man had concern written all over his tanned face, his bright emerald eyes glittering with adrenaline.

“What is it?” he asked as Viciu approached the lift.

“Phasma caught a set of infiltrators,” he growled softly. “A Resistance tech rat, and none other than DJ and the infamous FN 2187.”

Hux growled low in his throat. DJ? The slicer that had once slipped from their grasp after turning on them in the middle of a job? And FN-2187? Surely they wouldn’t be so lucky to catch them both at the same time… and finally destroy them both.

“Have them brought to the hangar bay and prepared for a public execution,” he said. “We will broadcast their deaths to the Raddus, and show them the futility of their cause, and what happens when they try something as foolish as making their way onto the Supremacy. I will ready the comms here.”

“Yes, Sir,” Viciu said with a sly grin, and like Kylo before him, disappeared into the lift, and was gone.

As Hux gave orders to the communications officers, and paced the bridge, waiting for the links and broadcasting signals to be properly connected, he felt a slight jolt from his link with Kylo. He nudged their connection, concerned. Kylo responded with a gentle brush that was not entirely convincing, but he was fine- for the moment.

 _Give me time_ , he said quietly. _I need all my concentration right now._

 _Be careful_ , Hux replied, then withdrew to focus on preparations.

“Sir?” Viciu pinged over his personal comm. Hux picked it up.

“Report.”

“Sir, I interrogated DJ and… he told me that in exchange for a ship, some cash, and being allowed to go free… he would give us intel on the Resistance’s actual plan,” Viciu said cautiously.

“He can have enough cash to retire on Canto Bight if he’s telling the truth, but I doubt it,” Hux snorted. “That two bit hacker is a liar and always will be.”

A pause, then:

“Sir, he said if you don’t believe him, then to run a long range scan on the Raddus and the space around it.”

Hux scowled, disliking the gall of the scruffy, filthy slicer telling him what to do, but got the attention of his sensor officers, and indicated they should run a long range scan around the Raddus. Not even a moment later, the displays showed many evacuation shuttles whose energy signals had been disguised with a rather clever short term cloak that was only caught by a focused scan. All of them were heading to the surface of the planet that had come into view in the past few hours. Crait, he’d learnt after some quick digging, which was a ball of salt plains and little else- save for an old Rebellion stronghold made out of a salt mine.

“They’re fleeing their sinking ship and running for a hole like the rats they are,” he murmured. “He was telling the truth. Will wonders never cease?”

He pinged Viciu on his comm again.

“Let him have his ship and cash, we see the ships.”

“Your orders, Sir?” Phasma asked in the background from Viciu’s comm.

With the comm still open, he smirked, and said:

“Open fire…. Then execute them.”

He cut the comm off- after he heard the screams of protest and dismay from their prisoners. He watched in satisfaction as the fleet began firing salvos at the fleeing shuttles- many missed at that distance, but there were a few that caught and exploded their targets. All the better to hurry them along to the dead end they were scurrying away to.

A slight motion caught his eye, and he looked at the Raddus more intently. The cruiser was changing course- and turning to one side. Hux felt his breath catch in his throat. Surely it wasn’t-

“All ships, fire on that cruiser!” he ordered. Across the bridge, Captain Yago lifted a brow.

“It’s empty,” he said. “It’s a diversion.”

“It’s making a turn to come at the Supremacy, _destroy it_!” Hux ordered the bridge again.

The officers of the Supremacy hesitated, and the turbolasers of the rest of the fleet were torn between their target of the fleeing shuttles, and the empty cruiser, which was picking up speed, and now pointed directly at the Supremacy.

“DESTROY IT!” Hux all but shrieked. “Or so help me, if you survive, I will make you wish you hadn’t!”

The salvo began- but too late, far too late, as the hyperdrives of the Raddus flared, and the ship jumped into hyperspace through the Supremacy.

Hux dove for cover and curled into a ball, trying to protect his midsection as his world exploded around him, and only one thought ran through his mind as the capital ship was rent in two and he was flung against the bulkhead.

_Kylo, my baby, I couldn’t protect either of you… I’m so sorry._

* * *

Phasma practically screamed in frustration at the former trooper as he watched her fall through the floor. Rage at her defeat, at her pointless impending death, it all boiled her blood. She had not lived through hell, survived insurmountable odds, put up with so much bullshit, only to die such a pointless death, when she had just found something- someone- who made life more than just surviving.

Maetra. Phasma only hoped the woman she cared for, had begun to love, had made it out, and would survive.

Live, live on, and live strong, she thought, still scrabbling for every, any handhold she could find that would not result in her landing hard in burning, melting metal. She might be falling to her death, but she wouldn’t die without a fight, and her last thoughts would be of the woman who had been the only one witty, strong, and capable enough to get under her armour and see who she was.

She landed hard on a metal surface, and the breath was knocked out of her as her armour bruised her ribs.

_Phasma? Phasma! Babe, wake up!_

Dazed, it was taking her a moment to realise her name was being spoken, and not hallucinated- and it took her even longer to realise she was rising through the hole in the floor into which she’d fallen. She shook her head, and through the broken opening in her helmet- her HUD was no longer working- she saw the familiar pattern of black and red on a gently curved surface, and the unmistakable shape of a TIE’s wings to either side of her.

“Phasma!” came the voice again, and Phasma looked down to see the hatch open, revealing Maetra at the helm, the gunner seat empty.

“Mae,” Phasma said in disbelief. “But… how?”

“Get in here and I’ll tell you, we don’t have time,” Maetra urged, and Phasma didn’t need to be told twice, sliding down into the cockpit in the spot usually occupied by Dashelle.

“Where’s Dash?” Phasma asked as she buckled in and took the controls.

“In another TIE. One of Alpha squadron was killed by debris, and we figured the more TIEs we could get out, and the more room to pick up survivors, the better,” Maetra said, pulling up on the yoke and taking the TIE out of the burning wreckage.

“But how did you find _me_?” Phasma asked.

“Because I love you, and when the Supremacy was hit, I knew I had to get close. I couldn’t be far from you if you needed me. I felt your rage, your fury when you fell, and I pushed as hard and as fast as my ship could go to catch you,” Maetra said softly.

Phasma was silent, stunned at the revelation. Many times in her life, she had let others fall because that was what you did in the Scyre. If you couldn’t survive, it was one less mouth to feed- it was also one less blade in the fight, but if you couldn’t hold your own, you were left behind. For the first time in her life, she’d been truly defeated- not due to the inner politics of Hux trying to prove Snoke was setting him up, not the ridiculous headgames of the officers, or even the roughhousing of the Knights of Ren.

She’d fallen, and by all logic, she should have been left behind. Yet this woman, this powerful warrior, this skilled pilot, had come to catch her, because she loved her.

The realisation hit her hard, and Phasma let herself fall from the precipice she’d been so close to toppling over for so long.

“I… I love you, too, Mae,” she managed, and she felt no fear or failure as she let herself fall this time- only exhilaration in the fact that there would be someone to catch her.

* * *

Hux woke to a world of pain and chaos, and marvelled that he’d woken at all. The bridge was in chaos, but was intact. He did a quick inventory of injuries- bruised limbs, but miraculously, nothing more serious than that. Surreptitiously, under the cover of his coat, he removed a glove and slid his hand under the waistband of his pants and between his legs. He pulled it away, holding the hand near his face, and to his relief, saw no blood on his fingers.

That didn’t mean he was out of the woods, but the impact had not immediately endangered his unborn child. He slid his glove back on and stayed on the floor for a few moments, doing further inventory of any other pain that he might have overlooked. Overall, it was just a full body ache of hitting the wall, but he suspected that his preemptive dive for cover had lessened the impact. There was no aches in his lower abdomen, and his lower back had no shooting pains that might have heralded a miscarriage.

He was fine. For now. He would need to see Weyland as soon as he could, but for now-

He sat bolt upright, his mouth going dry and his face draining of blood.

Kylo.

He’d been knocked unconscious, and was in pain, but Kylo had not immediately prodded his mind, demanding reassurance he was okay. When Hux reached for him, there was only the cold dark he’d experienced when Kylo had been in the bacta tank. He was out cold- or…

“No!”

Ignoring the looks and startled cries of the others on the bridge, Hux bolted to his feet and raced for the lifts, pounding the buttons to take him to Snoke’s throne room. The lift worked, but jerked, and took him to the throne room. The doors didn’t immediately want to open, and Hux had to work at them to get through. When he did, he emerged into a scene of carnage and chaos.

Snoke’s guards were all dead- some missing limbs. There were shards of tech, pieces of the floor ripped up, charred marks from lightsaber combat, and evidence of blowback in a radius that told Hux something had exploded. Snoke himself was in two pieces- bisected at his waist, and the top half toppled onto the floor even as he approached.

Hux turned, looking for Kylo- and saw him being dragged across the floor by the scavenger.

Outraged, Hux pulled his blaster and raced after them, knowing she was heading for Snoke’s escape craft, as he could see the exhaust from the idling engines. He snarled as he made his approach. She would not take him, she would not have him, Kylo was his, and he needed him. He aimed, and fired- and had the girl not been able to use the Force, he would have blown her head off.

She hesitated, then lowered Kylo to the floor, and darted for the ship. She had no weapon, not that Hux could see, and clearly she didn’t want a fight. Moments later, the ship left through the emergency hatch, and was gone. Hux holstered his blaster and ran to Kylo’s side, rolling him onto his back.

“Kylo?” He asked, his voice tight. “Kylo, wake up.”

To Hux’s immense relief, Kylo stirred as Hux’s cool leather-clad fingers brushed his hair from his face, and his eyes fluttered open. Despite himself, Hux let out a sob and pressed his face into Kylo’s chest.

“Armitage?”

“You’re okay,” Hux managed. “Thank the stars, you’re okay.”

“What happened?”

Hux sat back, wiping tears from his face.

“You mean aside from Snoke being dead?”

“I did it, Armitage!” Kylo said breathlessly. “I killed him! I did what you taught me, I partitioned my mind and thought of killing Rey, while I was actually focusing on killing him, and I killed him!”

“Kylo, the Supremacy is dying.”

Kylo’s elation at being free turned to shock.

“What?”

“Holdo had the Raddus jump to light speed… through the Supremacy. The left wing is barely holding onto the main ship. She can hobble, but she won’t last long. The Resistance have fled to the surface of Crait,” Hux told him.

“Now what?”

Hux had no answer.

“Rescues are being made, damage control is ongoing, but we have no leader, the chain of command is in shambles,” he finally managed, but it was not an answer- it was an explanation of the ongoing chaos.

“We do, Armitage, it’s us,” Kylo said, grabbing Hux’s hands and squeezing them.

“I can’t, Kylo, I’m vulnerable, and there’s a power vacuum, I’ve made too many mistakes, and no one will support me taking control, even with you by my side, and I will not risk it,” Hux replied. Kylo was dumbfounded.

“But you’ve always been willing to take risks for power, Armitage, and here it is- Supreme Leader is in your grasp, I’m willing to help you, and you say it’s too risky?” he asked, baffled. “How are you vulnerable?”

“I have to leave, Kylo, and it’s up to you if you want to come with me, but I’m leaving… with or without you,” Hux said, not meeting Kylo’s eyes, as the very thought of running, hiding, and having his child without Kylo nearly broke his heart.

“What in the galaxy would make you flee the Order, abandon your post and everything you’ve worked for, ever dreamed of, Armitage?” Kylo pressed.

Hux was unable to look away as Kylo took his chin between thumb and forefinger and aimed his face to look at him. He shuddered, braced himself, and took a deep breath. This was not how he wanted to break this news to Kylo, but he didn’t have the luxury of time- and at any moment, another high ranking officer would take it upon themselves to check on Snoke and possibly lay claim to the position.

“Kylo,” Hux began, his voice quiet, tremulous. “I will flee, because I have to protect the one thing that means more to me than anything I’ve ever dreamed of, because I didn’t know my dream had changed in an instant due to my own arrogance.”

Kylo’s eyes were wide, confused, and so soft that it hurt Hux to the core. He gnawed on his bottom lip before finally dropping the one sentence he’d been terrified to tell him, but now had to in order to convince him that his desire to flee was genuine.

“Kylo, my implant stopped working. We never used contraceptives, you’re from a prolific line, and I-”

He didn’t finish, as realisation dawned on Kylo’s face, a wide, watery smile broke over his lips, and he crushed Hux to his chest, all the pieces of the past few days falling into place.

“You’re _pregnant_!” he breathed.

Hux was shocked.

“You’re not mad?”

“I’m _terrified_ , but I’m also happy- Armitage, you…” he broke off and slid his hand down to cup Hux’s belly. “You’re having my baby, we’re going to be a _family_ , of course I’m not mad!”

His expression grew serious.

“You’re right, though. We have to leave. Pryde would kill you, regardless of your vulnerable state, but if he found out? He’d double his efforts, because you having a legacy with me? All the more of a threat. And that’s just Pryde. No, we have to leave. We have nothing but a future for us out there, and nothing but conflict and danger for our family here.”

He got to his feet and helped Hux up. He kissed him breathlessly, then led the way to Snoke’s personal lift.

“We’ll go the back way and go to the Finalizer as quietly as possible- You will stay on the Vulture while I get everything from our rooms. Give me a list and I’ll raid the medbay,” he said as they headed for an escape pod.

“What about your Knights?” Hux asked. “Will they follow you still?”

“Are you kidding?” Kylo asked, laughing a bit as the pod launched for the Finalizer. “I became the leader when I killed the previous one, they’ll celebrate me killing Snoke and letting them return to their old ways of doing what they want. I’ll let them go, and we’ll have no issues with them. Hell, they may even want to stay, but we’ll figure that out later.”

He stopped babbling and kissed Hux, breathless.

“A _baby_ ,” he breathed. “I didn’t think you wanted children, or were able to have them, but-”

“You aren’t afraid?” Hux asked.

“I already said I was terrified- I don’t know how to be a father, let alone be a parent with someone else- but it’s with _you_ , Armitage, and I love you,” Kylo replied, putting his hand to Hux’s belly again. “And the little one you’re carrying.”

Hux had no words as Kylo’s warm large hand cradled the tiny swell of his belly, cradling the life he carried, only tears of relief and excitement as he finally let them fall. Kylo pulled him into his lap and held him close.

“I’ll get us everything we need,” he promised. “What we can’t fit on the Vulture, we’ll find elsewhere. If I have to become a smuggler, or do hard work, I will. I will do whatever it takes to keep us safe.”

Hux wiped his eyes.

“You get our belongings from my room, I will get Weyland- if she survived and made it back to the Finalizer- to bring us a med droid and medical supplies. Meanwhile, I will empty my accounts to the shell account I made years ago, and have Sloane convert it to regular credits we can use anywhere.”

“How much do you have to transfer?” Kylo asked as he removed his cloak, getting ready to smuggle Hux to the Vulture as the pod landed in the hangar bay.

“We will discuss that later,” Hux said quietly, taking the cloak and covering his face and hair as the hatch opened. He and Kylo moved quickly to the Vulture, and Hux slipped inside.

“No one else but my knights can get in here,” Kylo promised, “And I will discuss with them what’s going on as I pack our things.”

He paused.

“What do I do if someone asks where you are? Politics are not my forte.”

Hux considered a moment.

“Tell them when I went to check on you in the throne room, Snoke killed me. That he blamed me for the Supremacy’s destruction, and he finally got rid of me. Tell them you’re taking my things to be destroyed per Snoke’s orders, as a blow to Grand Admiral Rae Sloane,” Hux finally said. “…and give me your datapad- I will use it to empty my accounts. After all, a dead man can’t do that.”

Kylo was quiet for a moment, wincing because it would have been the truth… had Snoke survived. He’d leave that well enough alone for now. No need for Hux to know how close to death he was, not when their lives- theirs and their child’s- were at stake. He kissed Hux’s forehead gently, handed him his datapad, then shooed him inside the Vulture.

“Stay here. I’ll be back shortly,” he promised, then shut the hatch behind him.

Hux opened Kylo’s datapad, and got to work emptying his bank accounts, cashing in the many, many days of leave and using Kylo’s encryption to immediately add it to the transferred balance. He swallowed hard. Between his minimal spending - save for creature comforts of food and a comfortable bed- and his never using leave, he stared at six figures that were close to teetering into seven.

He transferred the balance to his shell account, knowing that transfer would immediately trigger a notification to Sloane, and that the amount would tell her he needed it in a form of currency he could use outside of First Order space. He titled the transfer reason as “Nest Egg,” and knew Sloane would know to wait until he contacted her. If he didn’t contact her in two weeks, she could try to contact him. If she failed to reach him, she would wait two months, then six. After that, the money would be equally divided between her, Thailin, Angelica and Maratelle.

He sent a message to Weyland from Kylo’s datapad, and she replied in a timely fashion, along with the supplies she could give up, and would have ready to go in less than ten minutes, and would be sending it via droid and covert crate, thinking Hux just needed supplies for his pregnancy and that Kylo was turning his own quarters into a private place for Hux to get care. He hated lying to the doctor who’d helped him, but he didn’t want a trail leading back to her and getting her in trouble.

When Kylo came back to the Vulture, with the very confused ysalamir, all of Hux’s things- including his cello, of all the things he did NOT need, but was touched Kylo brought it anyway- Hux relayed Weyland would be sending a droid with medical supplies. Kylo helped Hux pack the Vulture, and met the droid at the entrance of the hangar bay where it waited with a crate full of supplies, and was accompanied by an ME droid that introduced itself as being programmed for basic care, but specialised in obstetric care.

Kylo shut the droid up before it could prattle on too long, shooing it into the Vulture. As the droid immediately got to work running diagnostics on Hux- who was more than a little relieved to learn the baby was just fine, and he himself just needed sleep- Kylo got the Vulture up and running.

“Sir, may I enquire when you will return?” asked the flight deck control.

“I don’t know,” Kylo spat. “Do you ever ask the Knights of Ren when they will return? Now butt out, I am under direct orders.”

He cut off the comm once he got clearance to launch, and the Vulture shot out into the chaos of returning ships that were fleeing the dying Supremacy, and hobbling to the Star Destroyers that would be their new homes. Hux watched through the viewport, feeling a surge of panic and loss.

The Order had been his home ever since he was five years old. Those starships were all he ever knew- he even designed some of them, watched them be built. He’d grown up with those ships, and in a way, they were family. More than his father ever was, ever could have been. Now he was leaving them behind for the very uncertain future.

Kylo reached across the space between the pilot and co-pilot’s seat, and took Hux’s hand in his own, giving it a squeeze. Hux tore his eyes away from the sight of the Order, and looked at Kylo. The look on his face was gentle, loving, and full of careful, cautious nervousness. Hux smiled at him, and felt some of his fear melt away.

He wasn’t leaving family behind. He was leaving the familiar for the new, which was a family with the man he loved, and the child they had made together.


End file.
